


Besiegement

by royaletofu



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Blood and Violence, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9270143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/royaletofu/pseuds/royaletofu
Summary: Minseok needs to survive in prison, and he'll do whatever it takes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not an expert on prisons in S.Korea of course, but this is mostly based off the system in Japan and America. It’s basically Shawshank Redemption and Under Grand Hotel smashed together.
> 
> Thank you for checking out my story! There are warnings, don't read if you get uncomfortable and I apologize in advance.

After a long journey in the prison standard luxury of a ‘sweat box’-- or that's what one convict said everyone called them, he was moved into the holding room. It was actually the prison transport, the ride was so muggy and humid that it was difficult to breathe because of the other horde of criminals. Every single person had pale, somber expressions adorning their faces, flinching at each bump grinding on the tires.

 

Upon their arrival, they went through the prison induction process; all personal belongings including phones, jewellery, money and other personal items will be taken and stored by the reception officer. His searched luggage were to be placed into the holding cells prior to entering.

 

Minseok had already heard so many horror stories about the establishment that he just knew prison life was about to become a lot more difficult. It’s known to be the worst establishment in South Korea. In the grim environment, humanity counts for so little because to the prison staff, they really are just cattle: one on, one off and make a note of the numbers in and out. He refused to look at his fellow inmates, eyes glued to ground.

 

Thoughts swirled around his head. What’s his new cellmate going to be like?  Will he be a serial killer or an unpredictable psychopath; or will he be some poor fellow suffering from some kind of mental illness who actually belongs in a hospital?

 

He squeezed his eyes shut. Whatever happens, happens. It’s something he will come to accept. Kim Minseok, twenty-seven years old, will be branded as a murderer.

 

Minseok eventually got searched, a hair trim, stripped, and given a set of clothes before seeing the prison doctor, cavity-searched and screened for any diseases. A picture was taken for his inmate ID. He was then herded onto a new wing and was to be guided on the landing outside the door of his new lodgings.

 

As the coldness seeped through his thin, scratchy uniform, he numbly followed the burly guard cladded in all navy blue down the corridor with a bundle of blankets, a toothbrush, thick handbook, and a plastic cup. Two heavy set guards accompanied him.

 

The prison was labyrinth-like, twisted, dark, and unsettling, a lingering odor of dead animal was stuck in the air. The concrete floor provided a loud clicking noise with each step he took because the shoes they accommodated him were loose on his feet, trailing behind him were heavier, robust steps.

 

He runs an index finger through the coarse bristles of the toothbrush out of the anxiety that was slowly crawling up his spine. One of the guards in front of him frowned at the sound, but didn't say anything. With examining eyes, the Korean man scrutinized at the rusted openings of the cell rooms that sat along the hallway.

 

Each door was marked with sequential numbers and their doors were mixtures of an unkempt grey, white, and filthy flecks of black. Everything was dull and grey. A small window with a cross hatched design was placed at the top of the door, it’s foggy but definitely see-through. Next to the door was a big enough window that has some bars, possibly just so the guards can see and hear what's going on. They climbed steps, this is the second floor of the facility, guiding him to Block B.

 

It was unusually quiet, deafening and almost creepy. Convicts can’t possibly be this silent everyday in their cells? No one was really looking at him. Through the window, Minseok peered over and noticed a prisoner seated at a table, unmoving, back facing from the door and another man lying down on the bed reading a thin book.

 

The abrupt stop of the guard had him fumbling on his feet for a second, nearly colliding into the grouchy officer, but a harsh grip on his forearm from behind nearly saved him.

 

But dark, unfriendly eyes caught his own for a fleeting moment before the hand slipped away from his arm, make him jump.

 

“Watch your fucking self, brat.”

 

Minseok flinched, quickly muttering an apology with a coarse voice. He immediately averted his attention to the other man in front of him, watching him unlock the cell door uniformly and opening it.

 

“Get in there,” the guard instructed, holding the heavy brass door open with ease.

 

Rushed by the man’s impatience, he was aggressively shoved into the room under the watchful gaze of the occupant that was sprawled on his bed. They connected gazes, much to his disdain. He was young, he looked too young to be in prison-- roughly around Minseok’s height, short hair, big eyes, and round lips. The prisoner automatically sat up from his bed and firmly set his arms to the side in obedience, face oddly stoic.

 

The guard paused at the doorframe and announced callously, “4012, this is your new cellmate for the time being. He is to be addressed as 4099.”

 

The man, 4012 remained unfazed, still as a statue. With no further comment, the guard turns back around, the door closed firmly behind him, leaving the two to their own devices. The sound of the lock turning made Minseok breathe out a sigh that he's held in. He absorbed the finality of his situation. Fear flooded him once more, this is his new life. His official day in prison.

 

Minseok’s feet was still planted to the ground, briefly staring at his cellmate before letting his eyes roam around the room. It was grimy and smelly, but still a room to sleep in nonetheless. There was a metal bunk bed on the side of the wall, a toilet that had a divider and sink, a tiny television set, and two small desks. It had the most important necessities at least. It felt more like he was on vacation at a cheap motel with no sharp objects hanging around. It was very neat and organized, no signs of clutter whatsoever.

 

4012 laid back on his bed and whipped out a magazine to read, blatantly ignoring Minseok’s presence. It was almost as if he was less than reluctant to have another cellmate.

 

The newcomer stood still, he didn’t care. The weak bones within him were shaking, chilled by the drafty air. Minseok was unbelieving towards the fact that he will have to get used to the new system, new people. _Dangerous_ people. He wanted to curl up and sleep in a warm bundle of soft blankets, see his family again and beg for mercy, but he knew that the day will come out as a long one, a day where such thoughts are meant to be stowed away forever.

 

There’s no time to dwell. He is really incarcerated, trapped behind a locked door within metal doors with no foreseeable way out like a helpless rodent. There are no signs of familiarity to placate his terrified nerves. His eyes started burning, itching to water, but an unexpected smooth voice snaps him from his thoughts. He jumped at the suddenness and turned his head to look at the young man.

 

“Stop your moping, save your tears for later and prepare them for work instead.” The inmate, 4012 said, staring at Minseok with disdain. He gave him a long, top to bottom look. It oddly felt violating, but also judgmental at the same time. The magazine was set down and rested at his side.

 

Minseok peered back, words stuck in his throat.

 

Considering by now it is probably pretty late, there has been no time for any “induction” or anything, but he was lucky enough to have the man speak Korean. He is currently locked in a cell with absolutely no idea how anything works. This should be considered a blessing.

 

Minseok figured that he is expected to just get on with it, as the next time his cell door is opened, none of the guards will really even realise that he is new. He wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand without replying.

 

“The regulations are hard to swallow. I recommend reading that handbook you have in your hands over there. To avoid as much problems as you can, you must read it until the very end.” 4012 supplied, sitting back up on his bed. He continued talking with reluctance, pointing at the materials in Minseok’s arms. “Make sure you keep your paperwork in your desk by the way.”

 

The nervous man looked down and placed his stuff on one of the unoccupied desks, following 4012’s instructions. He then started opening and flipping through a decently sized booklet with frozen fingers. Too many words, so little time.

 

At least his cellmate appears to be somewhat sane. He lifted his head.

 

“Thanks. Uh, w-what’s your name?”

 

“At the beginning, it is all about the number, it means a loss of identity. From here on, your name is 4099. Remember mine, got it?”

 

Minseok swallowed dryly and nods. He looked up at the other man, lips starting to get chapped, flaking from the cold, “I can't possibly read all of this by today.”

 

“Course not, only few can. It usually takes a week. You'll just have to watch and follow along.” 4012 tosses his magazine on top of the TV.

 

He muttered _interesting magazine_ to himself, but Minseok could tell that the magazine has been read many times, judging by the frayed and bent edges of the pages, the discoloration. His cellmate is kind of strange. How long has he been here? What crime did he commit? How many times has he read that magazine?

 

“What else should I know?” Minseok blurted out.

 

“That it is supposed to be forbidden to die,” the man looked at Minseok firmly in the eye, expression utterly unreadable. Minseok felt even more on edge at the disturbing comment, inching slowly away towards the wall. 4012’s tone was mere nonchalance, “they’ll do whatever they can to keep you alive, but prisoners are still quickly dropping dead like flies-- there’s grown men figuring out how to die in prison. It’s like a damn fashion show over here.”

 

Minseok’s face twisted into horror. How can this young man speak of dying so easily?

 

“Nearly everyone is desensitized by death. If you want to live, try not to draw any attention to yourself and get used to it.” The prisoner laughed at the suspected reaction. His smile was kind of twisted and dark, as if his lips were pulled by strings. “Stay out of people's business, prove yourself at least once and stick close to your own kind you will be fine, even you aren’t a racist."

 

A chill ran along his skin. That’s not something to giggle about, it’s really not. Minseok turned to the last page of the booklet; in bold letters ‘death’’ was casually written down in the listed section of restrictions. Other restrictions were trivial things like weapons and cellphones.

 

“One last thing to remember, once you have settled and figured it out, is that you may be moved to a new cell several times, and your cellmate may change. This is always an apprehensive time as it’s almost like starting over again, so it is best to be ready for it.” 4012 shrugged as he plucked out a worn-out book from the bookshelf. Stephen King. He shook the dust off of the cover. “There’s a myriad of foreigners here. Obviously if your cellmate speaks Korean that will help a lot-- again, you have to follow everyone else and hope to figure it out.”

 

Minseok nodded for the umpteenth time again, it was lot to soak it. Straightening his thoughts out was like emptying out a luggage and then reorganizing the inside back to it’s original spot afterwards. But he felt surprisingly comforted by the young man. Even though it’s his first day, he provided him loads of information that may make his day easier. And he did it without punching him in the face. Hopefully they could be friends later on, and possibly have Minseok stick together with him, since this person seemed to be very knowledgeable, although he is slightly unnatural in mannerisms.

 

But Minseok could actually survive. Perhaps prison wasn't as bad as people made it out to be. He tried to squeeze out a weary smile, “Thank you, 4012.”

 

The man waved a hand, “I didn't let you talk much, there’s no time for introductions. I would have told you a lot more. Get ready, because dinner is coming up.” The convict replied dutifully, eyes narrowing. “So _don’t_ thank me yet.”

 

 

****

 

With his eyes swimming around the vast square cafeteria, 4012 allowed Minseok to follow behind him. He was a little confused about the two queues. Left and right. Didn't know if there was any difference in the food served. He asked his cellmate, was told that it was all the same crap, so he just stayed where he was at. The line moved slowly. Takes about 20 minutes to get from the end of the line to the point where he gets the tray of food.The dreary walls felt massive as he sat on an unoccupied bench, placing his tray of unidentifiable matter called ‘food’ down on the table. He grimaced once he put his elbows down, noticing that the tables were sticky.

 

Everyone was all dressed in issued uniforms, ugly, grey, dingy things that flattered no one. On the right were mostly Asians of course, but further in were foreigners. Looking closely, it’s not hard to see that the canteen is naturally segregated by race. Dozens of random dark eyes stared at the pair, mainly Minseok, and other prisoners-- presumably the other convicts that came in with him today. The place was loud, but not as loud as it could have been. Lots of whistles filled the place. Some were sneering inappropriate comments to them, repeating the term fresh meat spill out loud from their foul mouths. There were a couple of prisoners like him that got harassed physically, getting pushed around. There were also those who continued eating, carrying on like no one’s business. Minseok didn't want to meet _any_ of their gazes. He was far too afraid to get involved.

 

“Obviously you're not the only fresh meat here, however, I advise not to stick with them.” 4012 said, he clicked his tongue and poured his full attention into food, making sure that his radishes do not collided with his beans by prodding it aggressively with a plastic fork. “That's just asking for trouble.”

 

Minseok swallowed down some rice with difficulty, it was kind of undercooked,  “How come no one is approaching me?”

 

4012 doesn’t blink. Who knows, he said, before he proceeded wipe the corner of his lips with a napkin, even though he didn’t eat anything yet. On Minseok’s part, he was noting that he was tidy. 4012 kept his nails clean. But there was something strange and otherworldly about his eyes. For one thing, they were wide, the blunt uncomprehending look of a man that could see right through you. Minseok’s unsure on whether or not that would be considered a good thing. He winced at the bitter taste of the mystery meat.

 

“Shit,” 4012 glanced briefly past Minseok’s shoulder and muttered with a mouthful of beansprouts, “Someone I know is coming, don’t pick a fight even if he provokes or annoys the shit out of you. He’s always like that. Get on his good side, but not enough to get him attached to you, got it?”

 

“...Okay?” Minseok responded passively, turning around only to see a tall figure walking towards their table with wild eyes, bright toothy smile, and a tray of full in his hands.

 

“Hey bug-eyes!” The towering convict bellowed. 4012’s left eye twitched. “See you’re stuck with one of the fresh meats, eh?”

 

4012 doesn’t say anything in reply, and the new guy was unperturbed by it, turning to Minseok after he plopped himself down next to his cellmate. He points to the number sewn on his chest, “Hi, I’m 4061, same block as you. Can I have your dinner roll if you’re not gonna eat it?”

 

Minseok was so immobilized by the man, 4061, that he almost wasn’t listening. The guy was so tall, he was almost two heads taller him and his cellmate. His hair was a lighter brown, grown out longer than the rest of the prisoners, tucked beneath ears that were larger than an average man. Sure, he was handsome, but something was peculiar about his jolly attitude. He seemed like an energetic and funny guy though.

 

Minseok finally snapped out of it, and quietly said a hesitant sure. He wasn’t really hungry anyways.

 

“Thanks, they’re my favorite.” The skyscraper chirped, snatching the piece of bread off of his tray within a blink of an eye. “Being nice like that won’t make you last long here in prison, you know.” His voice matched the smile curling the ends of the other’s lips, gentle in a way he would not have expected from a fellow convict. Minseok tilted his head in confusion, it’s just food.

 

4012 shaked his head in agreement, bringing his attention back to the new prisoner with an expression of displeasure, “4099, just because I’m hanging out with you and 4061 looks like he wouldn’t hurt a fly, doesn’t mean that we’re _are_ nice. This is prison. There are child molesters, sex offenders, con men, pedophiles, killers, and you just willingly gave a drug addict slash murderer your dinner roll.”

 

Minseok felt his blood go cold.

 

“Hey! Rude.” 4061 looks offended for moment. And pouted. Very uncharacteristically. “I was gonna tell that to him myself, with a really impressive introduction.”

 

“Piss off, I’m just informing this guy that he should be more fucking more aware of his surroundings. People are always watchful.”

 

Minseok furrowed his eyebrows, his muscles go tense. “What should I really be aware of?”

 

4061 snorted, talking out loud with food in his mouth. “That your cellmate is convicted of--”

 

Suddenly, 4012 frantically looked behind Minseok and then stomped on the tall dude’s foot; for a small man, he could step on a foot pretty darn hard. The giant hissed in pain, handsome face all scrunched up unattractively. “Be quiet you goddamn monkey.” Minseok’s cellmate whispers angrily, “That Chinese bastard’s gang is heading the way. 4099, lower your head down and keep on eating your shit.”

 

Minseok does not dare turn around this time, something about 4012’s tone made him uneasy. He does as he says, and the other man obeys as well. A few tables around them were quieter than before, falling almost silent as he tunes into the steps that draw in closer.

 

He definitely noticed a big presence pass by. Something about the sudden change in ambience made him realize what sort of lifestyle every prisoner has to adjust to. He’s in big trouble for coming in here blind. When he brought his head back up he saw the crowd of men walk over to the other side of the chow hall and sat down to eat. After that, the noise level returned, everyone continued to their own ministrations, Minseok felt terribly confused. Both 4012 and 4061 just ate their meal like normal, but the tallest of the two gave him a perceptive glance.

 

“... What just happened.”

 

“I might have forgot to mention that there are alarmingly deadly gangs that you should watch out for.” 4012 coughed as he wiped his fork with a napkin before digging into his rice. “Also, I would join a gang if I were you.”

 

“The heck?” Minseok cried out, eyes blown open. He was never good with cliques and crowds. Deadly ones at that. “How can I join a gang? I can’t possibly join a gang. Are you guys in one?”

 

“4012 and I are ‘neutrons’. That’s slang for those who aren’t in any gangs,” 4061 said, “being a big guy will help me, just mind my business, obey the unwritten rules and I'll be OK. Same goes for him.”

 

His cellmate threw Minseok a sympathetic look before he explained. A few of the unwritten rules for a "neutron": Must not eat at the same tables as the gang members. Must wait to eat while all the gang members say grace together before dinner (yes, you read that correctly). When the gang leaders want to shower, you get the fuck out of the showers. Don't get involved in any barter systems with the gangs. Gangs get extra trays of food, no one else. A whole lot of other petty things.

 

Basically, be invisible.

 

Distress filled his senses. It's a different world in here, that's for sure.

 

“At the same time, it was heavily frowned upon within the gang community if a fellow gang member picked on a neutron. It's considered weak and I've seen guys get their ass kicked by their own gang for doing it.” The tallest emphasized with a wave of his hands. “You look kinda too weak to be one though.”

 

"Gee, thanks for reassurance.” Minseok frowned harder. He’s pretty tough. Short but tough. He even took self-defense classes, but he’s not going to share that. If he looks weak, then what makes prisoner 4012?

 

“You should learn Chinese and join 4007’s gang or something.” He joked.

 

“You’re crazy.” 4012 directed towards 4061, he shook his in disbelief, “And pretend to be Chinese? That’s a death wish.”

 

“Who’s 4007?” Minseok asked, suddenly feeling apprehensive. “Is he the leader of that gang over there?”

 

“Yep.” The big-eared prisoner tore the dinner roll in half, “Considered to be top in the hierarchy here. I’ve been in prison for only two years, but so far, I heard he was one of those big time drug dealers in Beijing. Incredibly wealthy with lots of power. There’s a few more like him as well.”

 

Minseok cleared the lump in his throat. It’s clear that he’s at a disadvantage, but he’s not surprised that people like him exists, even though he’s never encountered drug dealers before. “... Is he large in stature?”

 

“Eh, not really. These guys have power outside and inside the prison. They never usually are trouble cause they are ordering other inmates to their dirty work for them behind the scenes. These guys aren't usually the strongest physically, but are the smartest and most connected.”

 

“I’d like to digress over the physical part, I’ve seen 4007 clock three guys that snitched. He’s one steeled motherfucker.”

 

4061 made a small noise and nodded, “Oh, right. Snitches get stitches.”

 

“In what way is this advice helpful to me…” Minseok grumbled to himself. Another man to really watch out for, a rich and controlling one even.

 

Apparently money works within prison walls though.

 

He moved closer, “So how does this form of currency work? Do friends or family bring items in for me and I trade it?”

 

“Generally you have an account that your family can send money to. Then you can use that account balance to purchase things in the prisoner store. You can also work through prison jobs, or other prison hustles.” 4061 replied.

 

4012 finished eating. “Jeez, you ask a lot of damn questions. Like I said, just watch other people.”

 

“Wait, one more. Sorry, but can I ask what you guys were in for?”

 

That sparked a sudden fire under 4012. “No,” he said firmly. “never talk about your case or what you're in for. People will eventually find out on their own. They’ll also know if you're a child molester or pedophile and will hunt you down for it because words spread fast. Guards don't even bat an eye to their brutal treatment”

 

“Oh definitely.” 4061 shaked his head, “Those are real scum-- lowest of the hierarchy. Some even fake their paperwork just to not get beaten up. And I’d be more careful if I were you, 4099. Now that I see you more closely, you've kinda got a pretty looking face.”

 

He doesn’t leave any room for Minseok to reply, “If others happen to attack you, best to present your ass on the platter.”

 

Minseok assimilated that slowly, and then widened his eyes, “I’m straight!”

 

"So am I. But my luck is so bad that if it were raining pussy I'd get hit with a dick. At least you’ll live through it."

 

If Minseok was in a less fearful mood that joke would be the first and best laugh he’s had so far in prison. But his lips still didn’t even dare twitch.

 

4012 seemed to catch on. “Alright, come on let’s head back. Dinner is almost over. 4099, here’s the basics here. No more questions, got it? Join a gang, get ripped, or grow a beard or something. I won't be able to help you, I'm not affiliated with _anyone_ , so don't drag me into any of your shenanigans.” He said as he stood up and gathered his tray. “Just do your best not to get targeted by anybody.”

 

Both Minseok and the taller inmate swallowed thickly at 4012’s change in attitude, meeting each other's eyes with a connective, appreciative gaze. “The inmates have already been judged, so don't judge them and you'll be gravy.” The drug addict inmate whispers to Minseok. The buzzer to clean up rang loudly, and it was their cue to leave.

 

When Minseok goes to bed, it might have been easy to have fallen asleep, from all of that talking, listening, cowering. One huge guy nearly sized him up just because he accidently grabbed the last carton of milk. He tries reading the handbook to make him drowsy enough.

 

It’s exhausting for a first day. But even the stress wouldn't allow him to do so. His thoughts are all in a jumble, an indescribable disarray. He wasn’t surprised to hear even intakes and exhales of breaths underneath him suggesting 4012 had already fallen asleep. Time seemed to have flown by at an alarming rate, he felt even more alone.

 

However, he describes prison as a place where time itself doesn't exist. You don't know what, when, where and why something outside of prison is happening. The prisoners probably wouldn't even know if a zombie apocalypse was taking place. It's incredible that someone could live a life like that.

 

The biggest problem was daylight. ‘Cause there wasn't hardly any of it. Almost none. And men go crazy without daylight. He's been gripping tightly to his thin blanket, just to keep himself oriented, and every tiny sound he didn't make has him straining to figure out the source. The faintest whispers, the hoarse coughs, blood curdling laughter, sending up a hellish noise, there was even those muffled grunts of probably some pent up prisoners jerking off-- all of it was unnerving to him. This will eventually become a routine.

 

Minseok made an inaudible whimper as a tear slide down to his temple, a quiet noise that 4012 couldn’t even possibly hear. Just fifteen more grueling years, and he’ll be released.

 

 

\--------------

 

Minseok woke up to the delicate sound of the faucet dripping. He surprisingly slept well, face all stiff from dried up tears. Awkwardly, he began to stretch out his own taut limbs but the sound of a shrill alarm ringing through the block had him climbing out of bed instead. The sound brought both him and his cellmate all to attention. Minseok stared outside the bar window with anticipation, but later noticed 4012 was making his bed, rolling up the blanket and then brushed his teeth without a word. The elder watched and decided to copy the man. The water ran cold against his pale face, past his chapped lips. He’ll have to save for some lip balm at the prison store. While he rubbed himself with a towel, he looked around the room and at 4012 who was lying with his eyes closed on the bed. He was quite good-looking man, relaxed despite their circumstances. Feeling Minseok’s attention, he pried his eyes open.

 

“It’s time for work.”

 

Heavy clatter of leather boots on concrete grew louder as the high-pitched alarm quieted down. The metal door screeched as it swung open to the sight of a different guard.

 

His expression was rigid, glancing around the room to see if it’s clean and if the beds have been made. “Prisoner 4099,” he called out from the entrance with a clipboard in hand, “You’re assigned to leatherwork.”

 

With a quick flick of his wrist, he motioned for Minseok to follow him and he hesitantly complied, quickly glancing back at 4012. He turned back around and only received a shrug from the young man, Minseok began following the guard, leaving him behind.

 

With the sentence to prison, comes along forced labor. He read about this last night in the book. It is impossible to escape these measures, in which it is forbidden to idle-- or at least _supposed_ to be. Inmates gain a salary from the work. It appears that every prisoner had a place and role that had to be fulfilled whether they liked it or not. However, their slack body language suggested that most of them had grown used to the system and continued their duties with some reluctance.

 

The man issued him a working a grey cap and apron and shoved him into a large room filled with other inmates, seated on tables working. The air was kind of thick, and it reeked of chemicals, so intense that it made his nose itch. The whole room was polluted with the sound of hammering and snipping. It seemed like the prison had some sort leather and crochet crafting available and they made bags. There was one guard watching all of them as they do their jobs.

 

The man told Minseok to sit down and the inmate next to him will teach him the basics. The Korean male tied the apron around his waist, and placed the hat snugly onto his head as the guard left. When he sat down, he was faced with another charming face and he smiled warmly at Minseok, which almost bewildered him because it was probably the nicest expression he’s seen since he’s arrived here.

 

“H-Hello?” Minseok stuttered.

 

The smile left little dimples in his cheeks, and this left the Korean baffled in his thoughts because how could the man in front of him be possibly a criminal? He seemed the type of guy to pick up litter off the streets and feed the homeless. “Hi, I'm Yixing. You?”

 

Another convict on the man’s other side abruptly elbowed him in the stomach, “You idiot, how many time do I have to tell you that you're not to supposed to give your name so easily to other prisoners!”

 

Minseok stared at both of them, the chiding male seemed like a either an acquaintance or a friend of the other guy with dimples. Both of them had an accent and Yixing is definitely a foreign name.

 

“Oh right. I’m actually prisoner 4010, and this is prisoner 4000. You didn't hear my name.” Yixing, or 4010 laughed bashfully, scratching his head as his eyes fall down at Minseok’s shirt. “Nice to meet you, 4099. “

 

“Uh, yes. Likewise.” The Korean male looked at the pair with a jaded smile as he grabbed a pair of gloves. The other man, who was actually quite as tall as 4061, grinned back before going back to work. “I appreciate the help.”

 

“No problem, I like crafting to it’s no chore to me.” The sleepy-eyed man showed Minseok a wallet that was better made than any of the expensive wallets he'd ever bought. He noticed that there were more on the table and the purses looked like designer bags.

 

His mouth fell agape, “It’s so… professional.”

 

The young man blushed easily, “That’s real kind of you to say!” He eagerly revealed to Minseok more of his pieces. “We make these to send back home or sell for prison productivity.”

 

He doesn't hide the amazement in his voice when he asked, “You can do that?”

 

“It’s a pretty big thing here. Want me to tell you about it as we go along?”

 

Minseok nodded without hesitation. He was rather pleased to have another prisoner explain how the facility operates. The more information, the better.

 

“A lot of prisons have their own microeconomies which revolve around bartering commodities, as well as using the wages that inmates earn from performing work for the prison itself.” He explained while instructing for Minseok to imitate him. He grabbed a long piece of black leather and used a scratch awl to trace a design on it with a ruler. Minseok followed without any difficulty as he listens to the young man in awe. 4010’s movements were quick, intricate, and precise. “Inmates often use their money to buy snacks from the prison commissary, which are a valuable commodity. They will actually hoard snack foods, and establish themselves as a black market vendor within the prison.”

 

“A black market?” Minseok blinked. “Can’t you get caught?” He imagined that convicts would do some janitorial work or machine shop work and then use that money to pay for their prison expenses.

 

“If you can’t bribe the authority, then yes. Procurers and vendors are an integral part of all illicit inmate activities. Most have outside ties, and will smuggle contraband such as drugs, phones, tools, cigarettes, etc. into the prison.”

 

_Bribing? Smuggling?_ This is obviously some illegal shit. It seems that prison commissary is the most essential payment here. Maybe it would have been better if he stayed ignorant about it and never asked. He didn’t have much to begin with. The Korean gulped and accidentally let his mouth unravel. “Are you… perhaps in a gang?”

 

“Of course! You?” Yixing said happily. He used chisel-point knife to cut through the leather, and Minseok did the same steps with nimble fingers. “It’s a pretty complex system at first, but after awhile it becomes secondhand nature. When people are gang affiliated, it is also likely that they will collect material to bring to a gang's weapon maker. Our gang is pretty large, so I do have to do that once in awhile.”

 

Well. This guy is certainly not as virtuous as he thought he was, or at least ethically-- he still seemed like a nice man.

 

“... No, I’m not in a gang…” Minseok replied. As he heated up his tool, his nervously eyes roamed around and noticed that there were a lot of sharp devices and tools on the workbench. It made him shudder with the thought of some gang members pocketing them when the guards aren't looking. After all, he’s just not the type of person to stir up trouble.

 

“Yet?”

 

“I'm just not sure if I could be able to be in one.”

 

“Sure you can! It’s not too hard. I think.” He chewed on his bottom and squinted as he creased all of the pocket pieces after he heated the tool with an alcohol lamp with full concentration. “What was your occupation before you got in the hole?”

 

Minseok felt hesitant to give an answer.

 

“It's alright.” Yixing cajoled, “You can be vague, I won’t hold it against your case or anything.”

 

The Korean male’s expression softened a bit, it’s not like his job was involved with his case, but he felt like that information would be easy to figure out more about _him_ in general. “I used to be a banker. For about five and half years.”

 

“Ah,” Yixing hummed in comprehension before he paused for moment to think. The inmate then finished one line and turned his head to face Minseok. His expression instantly brightened. “Wanna learn some Chinese?”


	2. Chapter 2

Trigger warnings: mentionings of child molesters, drugs, rape crimes, and death. Again, if you’re uncomfortable by these, don’t read please

Other note: longer chapter, this seems like some weird shounen manga. Lots of prison slang as well.

 

When the convict asked him the question, it was all too familiar, and he wasn’t too fond of the direction that the conversation is heading towards either. 

 

Minseok inspected around to see if any guards were watching and then pointed his gaze back at Yixing to narrow his eyes. 

 

“What for?” 

 

Yixing was unperplexed by the question, still pouring a lot of focus onto making straight creases, “I was thinking that you could join our gang, you might actually have some use.”

 

“No, no. What  for ?” He repeated. He tried his best to be quiet so no one would look over or yell at them.

 

“Mm, I’ll be honest,” Prisoner 4010 pondered for a split second, halting the movements in his hands before replying passively. His attitude was too normal. “Basically, our gang is being subject to a lot of suspicious guard staff attention lately,”

 

“And I have no good contribution to it.” Minseok interjected. 

 

“You don't know that.” Yixing said looking straight at Minseok with a gleam flickering in his eyes. “Most of the men in our gang are tattooed all over their body, eighty percent aren't well educated, and they refuse to dissociate from the machismo and superficial exterior lifestyle. We  need more inmates like you.” 

 

Nah, I'll pass, he thought to himself. Minseok frowned, that sounds like something he wouldn't mix well in, a terrible idea nonetheless. Being surrounded by those type of prisoners?

 

Not tempting in the slightest. “Yeah, I really think I shouldn't.”

 

“Well, I insist. Joining a gang enables protection, and it looks like you'll need some of it.” Yixing warned. “Trust me, you don't wanna get on any other gang’s bad side as a non-affiliated inmate.”

 

Minseok’s hands instinctively clenched around the flesh of the leather, palms starting to build sweat. 

 

Is that a threat? Or is perhaps just acknowledgement that Minseok was never in a good position from the very beginning? This could be spite, maybe he is picking on him just because he’s fresh fish. 

 

Because this bastard has an excellent point, Minseok’s fucked either way.

 

He glowered back, “... What gang are you really in? Are you even allowed to recruit members?”

 

“Well, there’s no particular name for us, really. Most of us are Chinese, and ethnicities tend to stick with each other after all.” Yixing said. He elbowed him to do what he had demonstrated with the creasing and the Korean obliged after fumbling, with the creasing tool. “I can recruit, but you've outta prove yourself in some way.”

 

His mouth felt like cotton, fingers creating sloppy lines in the leather as he listened, “What’s the initiation process?”

 

As they began beveling the edges of the incomplete wallet, Yixing lips curled in a charming manner, but it barely cools down Minseok's unsettled nerves. He grabbed a wooden brush and dipped it in a tiny tub of acrylic paint, “Haven’t you joined a gang in middle school before? Or a frat in college? It’s kinda like that: get beat up by gang members, get a homemade tattoo, look tough etcetera.” 

 

“That sounds awful.” Minseok’s expression contorted, picking up his own paint brush. “You did all of  that to join a gang?”

 

“Oh yeah.” Yixing laughed, glancing at his his left forearm, “I’d show you my tattoo, but these sleeves I'm wearing are too thick to roll up. It’s pretty cool though.” 

 

Well, he didn't really wanna see, but that’s okay. That’s fine. He felt flabbergasted and confused by the situation overall. To be recruited into one of the most fearful gangs in prison was the least he had expected.

 

Silence fell between them. They continued working and managed to complete more than half of the leather wallet. His wallet looked more banal in comparison to the Chinese male’s, but he assured the elder that practice makes perfect. They cleaned up the station, the bench looking disgraced and cluttered with the boxes open and parts spread on the workbench. 

 

As he picked up one of the blades, it surprised Minseok that most of the tools were moderately clean, a few freshly washed, some brand new and covered in thin plastic, the others dusty. He looked at the blades carefully, looking for cuts or stone bruises. Everything seemed to be in good condition. 

 

It evidently made no difference if he checked, because as he picked up several more different knives that looked unscathed, not a single scratch on them, he felt his heart skip a beat. It’s possible that most of these tools were either  new or replenished. When the Chinese convict averted his attention from Minseok to talk to another inmate, the elder hastily opened a drawer from the opposite side of him, only to see that some blades were missing.

 

The inmates were stealing.

 

Yixing told Minseok their next project will be leather shoes after they complete the wallets and Minseok smiled cautiously, a little shaken by his recent finding. 

 

However, even though the inmate next to him was a convict, he felt that their working session was very sincere. It reminded him that human beings can be wonderful sometimes.

 

Perhaps it would be better to alter his mindset, start anew and pretend that nobody in the prison was a criminal, normal people. 

 

But oh, how he was  so wrong. Even the kindest smile can be artificial. He has yet to trust Yixing, and him being in a notorious gang makes the matters even worse.

 

Every prisoner washed their hands at the sinks and prepared to line up and headed back to their block for rollcall. As they both wiped themselves with a rough hanging towel, Minseok gave 4010 a small thanks. 

 

“Think about it, okay?” Yixing rested his hand on Minseok’s shoulder, and he almost flinched, but the Chinese male didn’t seem to get offended or notice. “If you ever want to talk about it, we can meet in the refectory sometime, I am there quite often.” The Korean nodded his head in agreement before they parted ways.

 

When Minseok was eating lunch, prisoner 4061 was absent from the table, but he figured he must have sat somewhere else. He didn't mind the lack of that toothy baboon, but he was curious as to where he usually hangs around and why he even chose talked to Minseok in the first place since he had first arrived in the facility. 

 

He paid no mind to the thoughts and quickly glanced over and noticed Yixing was sitting with a large group of prisoners, eating as it was a conventional, usual meal. That confirmed Yixing was, indeed in 4007’s gang. But it didn't surprise him. 

 

Minseok chose not to stare too much, he knew that he would get trouble if he did. He wanted to try searching around for the leader, however he didn’t want to risk getting called out for rubbernecking. 

 

He also decided against telling 4012 about Yixing as well, he worried that it might turn out to be a bigger deal than it should be. Judging by how he first met 4012 and his dynamics, the neutron would probably make a fuss. 

 

Anxiety clung onto him as if it were a cloak. It’s better pretending not to know a thing, every corner, nook, and cranny of the prison has eyes after all.

 

The cafeteria was noisy; the clack and clatter of plastic cutlery and trays, as well as laughter and loud voices, trumpeted throughout the hall. He slowly became more accustomed to the atmosphere as he ate his meal. He has yet to feel hunger despite it being the second day, but he supposed that every meal was intended to be sufficient in quantity and provided energy to the prisoners. It still tasted like shit. 

 

Even though his cellmate previously told Minseok to stop asking so many questions, he unknowingly continued telling him more information here and there during the meal. They seemed to naturally stick together during chow time. Minseok found it endearing of the convict, as if it was built in 4012’s personality. 

 

“Solitary confinement is where nearly all of the pedophiles or child molesters are, we call those guys chomos.”

 

“That’s good though, that they are separated from us.” Minseok said, tuning in completely to the conversation, sipping his cup of water. “Food slid under a door, alone, mold, darkness, and all.”

 

“Oh, but that’s where they  want  to be-- it’s like the safe zone for them.”

 

Minseok lifted a brow, “Why would they want to be there?”

 

“Just so us prisoners don't nearly kill them.” 

 

The elder felt a shiver unconsciously run down his spine. 4012’s voice sounded factual and all-knowing, as if plenty of chomos have died in this prison normally. 

 

“Chomos are always at the most risk,” 4012 said with a light-hearted shrug.

 

He told Minseok that it is very possible for a chomo to get by in county, but the unspoken rule was that they were the de facto untouchables of the facility. 

 

However, if solitary was full, they got stuck with general population, and they’d wet their pants knowing that they were targeted, kissing up to guards to save themselves. They were lower than neutrons-- it may sound like similar treatment, but it’s actually far worse.

 

This is how it has to work in a facility if it was not properly equipped to provide secure segregation for high risk inmates: inmates didn't trade with them, didn't do them any favors-- not even for a toothpick or a bag of chips, and if a chomo were to step out of line in any way, he could expect immediate retribution from his peers. 

 

Chomos are restricted by the unwritten prisoner’s code to use only certain showers, to watch television only from certain chairs, to sleep in certain bunks and eat at certain tables. 

 

And once you side with a chomo, you’d get screwed, too.

 

Minseok felt a little anxious, but was also relieved that the only people he had personally encountered so far were just a couple of tame prisoners. 

 

He let out a breath. “What I worry about is how I’m going to cope with how ridiculously crowded it is here.”

 

4012 lowered down his fork, head hung low to speak quietly, “Well it’s hard to break it to you bud, but word been spreading around that there’s a chomo among us since it’s become  overpopulated.”

 

Already? And the Korean male just arrived in the prison, he hardly desired to meet any of those type of sick men. The supposed chomo had already been sentenced to a prison term and is still in county waiting to ship out. This process can take months due to overcrowding in state prisons, and this case was no different. 

 

At the news, Minseok immediately lost his appetite, the food tasted bitter, like black coal in lingering on his tongue, “... You can’t possibly be serious.”

 

“I wish I was joking too,” 4012 grunted, wrestling to tear the mystery meat apart with his teeth, “Every prisoner is gonna make a commotion trying to figure who’s the chomo. It’s annoying.”

 

Minseok shut his eyes, and rubbed at his temples irritatedly. “So,  no one knows who it is?”

 

“It’s very likely there’s a rat, because he could have definitely faked his papers,” Before his cellmate could reply about the rest, a deep familiar voice interjected.

 

“And don’t mind me, I thrive on domestic disputes,” 4061 winked, suddenly sitting down next to 4012, he didn't bring a tray of food with him either. He must’ve been too tired to wait in line, it takes ages. 

 

The younger didn’t seem startled or amused, but Minseok nearly jumped out of his seat from the abrupt entrance.

 

“Disgusting,” his cellmate spat. “There was no domestic dispute.”

 

“And where have you been?” Minseok fixed himself as he asked curiously. Despite his casualness, 4061 looked much more haggard since he last saw him. 

 

There were bruises underneath his eyes and they were nearly blood-shot, he appeared dispirited from his usual self.

 

“I got zero sleep last night because some dude next to my cell was coming down off some serious drugs. The guards had to strip his clothes away and hose him down because he pretty much shitted everywhere and painted his whole cell with feces. I happened to witness aftermath this morning.” The inmate cringed. 

 

Minseok tried not to gag at the mental visuals, placing his forkful of rice back down. He presumed that the events what 4061 mentioned must occur daily, but thank the heavens that they’re not in the same block. 

 

After finding out that the tall bright looking inmate was a murderer and drug addict, Minseok was sure he was loose in the head, but he was equally sure that he was telling the truth about what happened. His eyes seemed to have retreated back deeper into their sockets in the short time they had been talking. He seemed exhausted. 

 

“I shouldn't have asked, but thanks for letting me know. Take a nap when you can.”

 

“I’ve seen a lot worse, but last night was just plain unlucky for me. I wish I was a heavier sleeper,” He groaned, rubbing at his eyes, “You guys talking about the chomo rumor right?”

 

Minseok nodded, pushing his tray towards the taller male. All pangs of hunger have dissipated from the conversation itself. The other man’s expression immediately lit up, and he continued talking as he grabbed a spoonful of noodle salad from his tray.

 

“Little bird told me that he’s in either Block B or Block C.”

 

4012 quirked, “You're obviously referring to a prison guard.”

 

“The prison guards know who the chomos are?” Minseok inquired with a shocked voice. He’s already flustered by the fact that the chomo could possibly be in their block. His head was throbbing and he desperately hoped that there would be more leads to distinguish the pesky little chomo.

 

“Some do, some don't. Bribed one of them for any new information. A lot of them are actually in the dark about the chomos if they don’t read the newspapers or talk about it. They sometimes check the case papers, but the paperwork is faked after all.”

 

“... But why?” Minseok asked, “Do they choose not to read the newspapers or watch the news?”

 

4012 glanced at Minseok, “Most officers, including themselves, refuse to see an inmate's files if they don't have to, because they can't help but treat them badly, or want to hurt them.”

 

He was starstruck, but he began to understand. 

 

If he was an officer, he would avoid reading or listening to what people have done. You know the inmate is there for a reason, but it's tough to stay professional and give unbiased care when you know what someone has done. 

 

“I kind of get it, I guess.” The elder started to feel ill. It wasn't just his heart that sank; everything below his neck seemed to drop another inch. “I hope they find out who it is.” He muttered. 

 

“If I were you I wouldn't sweat about it, the witch-hunt is just an excuse to beat the living shit out of someone without getting in trouble.” 4012 replied, chin placed in his palm with a bored expression. “I heard some gangs are riled up already.”

 

4061 gave Minseok a light smile in assurance, “Almost all arrest reports are on public record data. While few folks would have access to do internet searches, anyone with a friendly contact on the outside can get the low-down on someone. Lots of inmates do it. They'll find him in a jiffy.”

 

But that doesn't make Minseok too keen on letting his guard down. Who gets looked up seems to depend on what sort of interaction they are involved in. People that stay out of trouble keep their profile small. He’s heard that few were very good at staying out of trouble, so this seems harder than it sounds.

  
After the first two days of living on the grounds, Minseok learned that when you do lay low, there isn't much violence, just unending social drama, and lots of "gay-for-the-stay" sex involving people you don't want to think about having sex with. Well, there’s still violence, but not bloodbath violence. 

 

So far, Minseok had personally witnessed three fistfights total in one week, all of them related to card games and chess. In reality, the most coercive thing his cellmate did to him was to reach down from his bunk, wake him up, and politely ask Minseok to roll over because he thought he was snoring a bit too loudly.

 

Furthermore, the soap here is actually mostly liquid and not bar soap. Makes it way harder to pick up. Realistically speaking, he heard from a guard that he frequently chats with that most prison sex is consensual or coerced from cell-mates, the non-consensual acts still happens, but it is not nearly as prevalent as some people seem to suggest or is stereotyped. However, it makes his blood boil when there's people who think forcing someone is acceptable just because it happens in a prison. 

 

Minseok remembered the first time he showered earlier today. He told his cellmate he wouldn’t shower for weeks out of fear of being touched, but 4012 assured him that no one was going to mess with him. Minseok was almost scared shitless when he saw one inmate drop the soap, and pause for a moment. He just kicked the bar across the floor to some other guy and jokingly said, "Hey bunkie, would you pick that up for me reaaal slow?"

 

It was funny, he would have laughed along to himself, but Minseok still took the quickest shower in his life.

  
He’s gotten more used to the life here. Needless to say, silently crying himself to sleep stopped being a part of his daily routine for the majority of his sentence. 

 

He’ll try to keep his eyes peeled-- just to  stay away.  What are the characteristics of a child molester, what are the chances of meeting one? A chomo would be especially jumpy since he is thrown into general population with a mixed bag of low-level offenders and a couple of seasoned state inmates. He should be easy to spot. He hoped that the whole situation would be over soon. 

 

No one really cares that much about Minseok here so far, and half the time they don’t even notice his presence. He merely wants to mind his own business and not get involved. As long as he’s not an obnoxious asswipe who’s always in everybody’s face, he’d probably blend in without trouble. Perhaps, he might not even have to join a gang? Maybe he  should try to grow some facial hair.

 

After lunch, everyone was lead to rollcall and Minseok was assigned to laundry duty. When he was escorted, he was none so gently pushed inside by a large hand of a correctional officer between his shoulder blades,  hard . He hissed in pain at the rough treatment and ignored the officer before rubbing at his back. He tried to resist the temptation to glare. 

 

Seriously, what's up with guards and the shoving? 

 

Rushed towards another heavy metal doorway, seeped hot air. It was heavy and sooty, his eyes started to burn from the sensation rushing into his vision.

 

Gathering his bearings, he fixed up his limbs and coughed hoarsely when his lungs were immediately filled with chalky air. The enormous room was full with other working prisoners, along with sections of washing machines aligned up on the wall and folding tables. There were other huge, rusty, metal contraptions hanging on the ceiling as well. 

 

The correctional officer behind him was long gone and Minseok stood awkwardly. He felt lost like a clueless kid at the mall. What was he supposed to do? 

 

A slightly old, scraggly looking man with a short, white and grey beard seemed to notice Minseok’s apparent confusion and approached the male. But he was terrified by the way the old man looked at him, his eyes were a pale hue and he seemed to have a nasty scowl etched onto his face. Minseok’s muscles tensed and his back straightened as he watched the man walk over.

 

"You wanna know what they use skittles for in prison!?” he snarled exposing several missing teeth, towel swung in the air. 

 

Minseok shook his head in reply, slightly shaking in fear. The man promptly explained, "They use the red ones for lipstick and the green ones for eye shadow!" 

 

Minseok winced and recoiled immediately from the outburst, tiny little hairs rising on his skin. Nobody in the room even turned their head to look at the boisterous voice merging with the whirring of the machines. 

 

It took him a moment to assimilate what the the old geezer claimed. The Korean male blinked, eyes wide and stared back with his lips parted, even more confused than he previously was.

 

The prisoner just grinned, exposing a set of crooked teeth with many more gaps and yellowing. But a sunny and engaging grin, for all that, and Minseok began to relax, the rest of the world comes back into focus and he returns to himself, a man just wanted to discuss Skittles. Hesitantly, Minseok lifted the corners of his mouth and returned big grin as well. 

 

Minseok was introduced to another prisoner as he unquestionably went along with the man. They seemed to be acquaintances, just naturally working together, but also not quite friends. The other man that Minseok had met was seen as the most volatile type. He was a bleak middle-aged man, plain and quite normal in appearance. He had excellent posture, almost resembled as one of his professors in college, or a random businessman sitting on the bus. 

 

As they folded white tank tops, and tossed clothes into the washers, the middle-aged prisoner wasn't as talkative as the other two, but still made small talk here and there. Minseok listened as the strange elder man said he was this meth manufacturer slash seller in Seoul. 

 

Minseok was pleasantly surprised how friendly he was, even more shocked when he unhesitatingly brought up what he was in for. But he then realized that the man was trying to be cool and chide the younger why he shouldn't fuck up big-time and get sentenced for as long as him. 

 

For the rest of his stay in the laundry room he called Minseok Skittle. 

 

He enjoyed their presence and was more than grateful that they weren't as threatening as they appeared. The elder man told Minseok to call him by his initials, A.W. and the other male bashfully said to refer to him as Iron Monkey, offering Minseok a stick of mint gum with a grin. He had really nice, white teeth. 

 

Minseok tried to maintain a straight face at the cheesy nickname, hiding a smile behind his fist as he took it.

 

The papers came late as they continued their work, and an inmate with a ratty golf hat just slid a big heap of them onto shelves. An influx of prisoners stopped working to grab one, and Minseok opted to snatch one himself out of prickling curiosity. He heard startled voices around him, irked but clearly questioning. 

 

When Minseok sat down, the paper was opened to a specific page, and it was vacant of any photos. He tried not glower, he was devastated. Not a single face was in there, just a mere headline and context. 

 

He scanned the printed words carefully; the criminal kidnapped and molested two kids and let them die in the trunk of a car. 

 

Minseok wanted to vomit, bile rising into his mouth. He hoped the little bastard’s heart was in throat, choking. The Korean male clenched his fist till the edges of his nails dug into his flesh, his knuckles turned into almost a pale white.

 

“Whoever the chomo is, he is a rich pile of filth.” A thick, low toned voice interrupted his thoughts; and he turned his head, it was Iron Monkey. 

 

Minseok frowned harder. He was right, the child molester had purchased his way to remove his picture from the papers and now there’s no broad idea on what the offender looks like. He must be a very wealthy,  gutless  man. The small Korean man placed the papers down as he sighed.

 

He flattened down a wrinkle on his shirt before walking over to pour a large basket of clothes into the washer, “ Damnit , this sucks. You know, I was wondering for awhile, but why does everybody suddenly unite against a chomo?”

 

“Ah, this.” A.W lifted his brows, “People in prison generally miss their wives and kids, so any crime relating to women or children hits home. Hurting them will fuck you over hardcore, defending them will start you off higher in the respect rankings here. Kids influence it far more than women, but both have an effect.”

 

“But I can't believe it, I was hoping that these newspapers would help find him.” Minseok worried. “You guys got any idea on who it would be?”

 

A.W shook his head with a frown and coughed in a handkerchief he had pulled for his pocket, “No clue, Skittles. It’s hard to tell this time.” The cough shook him like hard wind this time, he leaned on the stack of powdered detergents, grabbed a wad of tissues across from Minseok, and spat into them, Minseok tried not to cringe at the noises. 

 

“I was in a holding cell for a day or two, and there was a small, scrawny, eighteen year old foreign guy in there so obviously some of the other people wanted to know his story. His Korean was pretty decent, he claimed he had sex with a sixteen year old girlfriend and the parents didn't approve of it so they got him locked up.” Iron Monkey shared. It was the most Minseok heard him talk. “There were few of the other guys who were gonna be there a lot longer offered to ‘protect’ him upstairs from people picking on him.” 

  
The expression on his face darkened as he continued, “I looked on the news a few days later and it was him. He violated his probation by getting on Facebook. His original charge was that he tried to lure an eleven year old into the woods to do sexual stuff. Asshole lied to everyone, just like that.” 

 

“That’s horrible, so horrible.” Minseok mourned, nervous and pale. He felt so sad, but so angry at the same time. “What happened to him?”

 

“Everyone else found out. He got viciously beaten up for a couple of hours and died on the way to the hospital.”

  
 

\-------------

  
 

It’s been several more days since Minseok’s stay in prison. So far, he had tried to his bestest ability to get adjusted to living in the facility. 

 

When he got settled in after lunch, the shot caller from Yixing’s gang approached him as he immediately walked into the refectory. 

 

He was lanky with olive skin, but very tall and muscular in the arms and legs. He could definitely roundhouse kick Minseok into the next orbit, he was intimidating. 

 

“You have one week to get us your paperwork so we can make sure you're not a chomo or have no rule 35's. If you don't provide them this in a week, we'll kill you.”

 

A sudden strike of fear slammed Minseok’s body, slight perspiration sliding down his neck as his mouth gaped in shock. The tall man looked terrifying, but the way he spoke with a tone of nonchalance and leisure made him aghasted. Their leader and the other members has yet to know that Minseok’s trying to sneak into their gang even though he doesn't know a lick of Chinese.

 

It didn't matter if he was Chinese by ethnicity, but he needed to know the language to at least get by. He could hang with other groups. If he’s obscure enough, he can sort of choose what gang he would want to roll with as long as he can program accordingly. However, if you do this, you will be always remain at bottom of the hierarchy in the gang. Heck, he doesn’t even know what the leader  looks  like.

 

But protection is what he needs and protection is what he wants. And the opportunity is right in front of him.

 

When something is forbidden or outlawed by society, people will always find a way around it. 

 

Minseok swallowed down the lump in his throat as he accepted, and the prisoner left the refectory room. He looked around, the area was a little small, but somewhat had a normal noise level, there was some boisterous laughter, some casual conversations, and some just reading books and papers.

 

“So, you show him your paperwork, and if you're clean you're good to go. If you don't show paperwork, or you're not clean, you really  will be killed within the next week.” Yixing accentuated to Minseok while he slid a Mandarin textbook towards him after they sat down on a vacant table. “I know you're not one, I trust you to that extent, but you're gonna have to show it to the fellow that just came by.”

 

It was indeed, a heavy and thick book. His case was never really controversial or as fucked up as being a chomo. But he’s willing to strip himself of the anonymity and learn another language for the sake of his circumstances. 4007’s gang is notorious for their big system and bonds. 

 

He found out that Rule 35 meant a reduced sentence for snitching on someone; the group wouldn’t even hesitate to kill a snitch. 

 

“I appreciate you going through all the trouble,” The Korean male said gratefully, “I never really thought I would have to go through something like this.”

 

Yixing pulled out a creaky chessboard set to make it look like they were doing something less sketchy, he organized the dusty little wooden pieces, “We hardly recruit people now, but I honestly think that you would make a good addition.”

 

“Er,” Minseok grabs a pawn and nervously plays with it between his fingers, wiping the dust with his thumb, “Is it really necessary? This might sound cheesy, but why me?”

 

“Why not?” Yixing laughed, “I may be biased, but I think that our gang’s the best.”

 

“You could be right. I don't know. “ The elder sighs. “At first I thought I would be better off not joining a gang, but the crap I'm hearing with the whole hiding chomo jumbo put me on edge.”

 

“Oh, the chomo,” 4010’s expression lit in a wan but genuinely amused smile, “We are searching for him too.”

 

Minseok made a face, a strange noise left his throat, “Are you guys gonna try to kill him?”

 

“Us? Kill him?” Yixing repeated with a small snicker, “Killing them is too good for those type of people.”

 

“What do mean?”

 

“They’re better off  dead than living in this hell hole.”

 

Minseok widened his eyes, “Do you really think that?” 

 

“Sure I do! Getting long, painful years tortured here is what they deserve than getting killed. They are better off dead than being around prisoners like us. Even our gang makes it  nice and slow for them.” 

 

The Korean male went tense at the way the inmate spoke. His tone was dark, but also vengeful as well. Minseok then understood how this man felt, he probably has a younger sibling, or a child perhaps. 

 

As much as he resents these chomos, his stomach lurched unhappily knowing that there was more people who had these thoughts. Thoughts to torture and brutally kill people they despise. 

 

Minseok choked a nervous chuckle and made a tight smile, “I think so too, they deserve the punishment.” He placed the pawn back into its rightful position, “... Erm, what are you guys gonna do when you find him?”

 

“We would slash their face as a mark of shame. Usually with a razor on the cheek. Or give him a goofy haircut at the prison barbershop.” Yixing said, but then hesitated before he paused, “There’s other stuff, but I don't think you’re quite ready to hear that yet. 4099, if I were you, I wouldn’t try to go off looking for the chomo.” 

 

“What?” Minseok said, “Why?”

 

“Well, I mean c'mon,  look at you.  You look like the kind of guy to run away from a fight.”

 

Minseok scoffed, “And yet you ask me to join your gang. You think I’m weak?”

 

Yixing let out a heavy breath, “Okay.  No , I'm not.” He looks at Minseok straight in the eye sympathetically, “Life isn’t easy here.” 

 

“ Obviously . You know the ropes here.”

 

“You do the inside stuff, and we do the dirty work. That’s  your  role.”

 

Gang my ass, the Korean male thought to himself spitefully. “But I don't want to just sit there and look pretty. I actually want to be productive, be a little physical.” 

 

The inmate raised a brow, “Telling yourself some bullshit won’t make you look tough, buddy. Listen, it's better safe than sorry. You have it  way  easier than most inmates. What I’m doing right now is giving you some sort protection, and you're getting it. You’ll be untouchable. If you start crying and complaining even when I told you to keep off the dirty work, the last thing we need is an unstable and mouthy inmate. The guy could be really dangerous.”

 

Minseok looked back down at the chess board, frowning, almost sulking. The Chinese man had a whole lot of factors that made some sense. He meant every word. Minseok could see it on his face. He ruffled his fingers through his short locks, “Alright, alright. I got your drift now-- and don’t call me buddy. What you’re basically saying is you need me, to keep a low profile on the gang, throw you guys some positive light.”

 

“You got it,” Yixing clicked his tongue, leaning back on his seat, “We need less attention, and as you can see, we have too much already. Something went wrong, long story short. And guards don’t give a rat’s ass about the chomos, so let us do our thing, yeah? I just want to you to follow the routine, but keep your eyes wide open.”

 

Minseok sighed. “That’s a lot on my plate though! What if your leader misunderstands my intentions and gets me killed?”

 

“Just make some use to the gang and prove yourself. I can't help you more than I already did. I don’t do  favoritism . If you fuck up, I won’t be able to do anything, you know.”

 

“And proving myself of worth earns respect?”

 

“Respect is the most treasured thing behind the walls. I've seen people get shanked in the neck because of what people outside the walls would be considered silly, but more often than not the person assaulted disrespected another inmate.”

 

Minseok kept silent, and the Chinese male started to feel guilty.

 

“Alright, I’m sorry, I’m doing my best. Try not to think about it too much.” Yixing smiled softly, “But hey, be glad you have a chance like this. Lighten up, it’s far much better than whoring yourself for a pack of cigs.”

  
 

\--------

  
 

Minseok was stressed. He’s already used to the routine: eat, work, eat, study Mandarin, read the handbook, snack a little bit, and then sleep. Income has been building up at an  excruciatingly  slow rate, and Minseok was starting to get frustrated. 

 

He had already showed that tall Chinese inmate with tanned skin, inmate 4068, his paperwork and now he’s officially clean. The first step has been completed. He was informed to receive a tattoo after the initiation and Minseok felt a little anxious. He’s never been inked in his life. 

 

The conversation with Yixing just made him exercise more consecutively in the workout room more to boost up his strength. He wasn’t taking any chances in getting roughed up during the initiation.

 

He wanted a plan, a plan to make himself more integrated into the prison like everyone else. The most essential factors of prison are money and connections, and Minseok needs a lot of it.

 

Most inmates are in the need of objects so he had been on a lookout for things like duct tape, files, wires and magazines. You can rarely have too many of those items, especially for crafting or running small favors. He’s been acquainted with a few convicts already, and it had made his stay much easier when it comes to getting extra quick cash and new information. It was pretty fun trading simple things like paper clips for ripped pages of magazine with perfume samples, he still wasn’t used to the smell of prison.   

 

He didn't overlook the usefulness of plastic forks, spoons, and knives from the canteen tray either. After a night of accidentally running his nails on the walls, he saw that he could perhaps hide items. Contraband scanners always check in the inmate's’ desks, so hiding things in the walls seem more than convenient.

 

One of the utensils could be used to slowly chip away at walls, the ground. None of the plastic utensils count as contraband, so he could wander around with as many as he can carry, and stash them without concern.

 

During Minseok’s free time, he sneakily scratches at the wall underneath one of the puppy calendars that his cellmate gave him. It’s a thin layer, but it makes a dent. He was hypocritical, sure, but it makes sense. He wants to  live, and going with morals isn’t going to cut it. 

 

The Korean man planned on stealing steel knives from the leather workroom to speed up the process as well. He decided to carve a square in the inside of his bible to store the weapon inside till he finished making space in the concrete wall. If he ran into some trouble, who knows what would happen to him? There couldn’t have been a better investment.

 

After lunch, he happened to have janitor duty with a bunch of other inmates, and it was suffocating to breathe with the bleach smell. He looked around, there was roughly around ten prisoners doing clean up duty with him. The whole entire bathroom looked a bit dirty, and it smelled a little like foul copper. In a prison this old, it was as if there was no amount of bleach or disinfectants that will ever make it smell clean again. If you've ever been to a zoo, that gives you some idea. One minute you're walking around, not smelling anything in particular; the next minute, you catch a whiff of primates flinging feces.

 

He swallowed his pride as he scrunched up his face. The Korean grabbed a mob and a murky bucket of water and started to quietly clean the tiled floor in a damp corner, it would be easier not to talk and gulp down the awful air. He knew nobody in room so he just kept to himself. 

 

“No one flushes the fucking john. Ever. You know how clean prison looks in all the pictures? It is, because we spend all fucking day cleaning it!” An inmate bemoaned to another with a thick accent. His haggard face was now running with sweat. He looked old, old as the prisoner he had met in the laundry room, A.W, but then he recognized him after he wiped his face, revealing a flashy tattoo on his forearm. 

 

Minseok widened his eyes, the man was apart of 4007’s contraband. He always made sure to take note of who was who and who is in the gang. He noticed Iron Monkey walk into the bathroom and he started to clean one of the sinks as he talked to another prisoner. 

 

Despite being reluctant, he decided not to walk over and talk to the man, he felt like being alone, wanting to try to get the job done.

 

It took over forty-five minutes to get the whole bathroom clean-- or at least most it, there was still some tough spots to wash off, and it takes a lot of force, but about seven inmates have completed their roles and returned to their cells. Minseok still worked behind a toilet to scrub away some extra strains. It started to get more quiet, more men left, and Minseok began to bask in the silence as he scrubbed. 

 

Despite the fumes of bleach burning his eyes, he took his time wiping away the dirt in order to empty his mind. It was relaxing, theraputic almost. Back at home, he enjoyed cleaning till his fingers got pruned. The soaps and suds coat his hands while his mind lapses into a state of calmness.

 

When most of the dingy splotches were lifted from his sponge, he stood up. It looked nicer at least.

 

From one of the stalls he was in, it was possible to look out of a small window and see people through the bars as they entered and exited the front office of the prison. He could still easily peer over, Minseok wiped his sweat with his arm and sat on the toilet seat. Two other stalls had a tiny little window as well. The sun was peeking from the grey clouds, raging down on prisoners that were working outside. 

 

There is something unsettling about working inside a barbed wire fence and surrounded by locked doors. It takes a person with a strong composition to be professionally fulfilled in this environment. The gravel paths were moist and the blades of grass were wet with dew.   
 

When his eyes fell back down to the office, he noticed another inmate's family came to the prison for visitation. There was a mother, a young daughter, an elderly man that walked out from the doors. The girl was clutching the fabric of her mother’s slacks. He started reminiscing over his mom and dad, missing the warm comfort of their arms. 

 

Seeing the family reminded him of taking care of his younger sister and giving her crappy advice for her nerve-wrecking small dates as he ruffled her hair. 

 

Despite meeting other people here, it still felt lonely. He wished he could be eating a large hearty bowl of stew with welcoming family, accompanied by a cheap bottle of beer. Thinking back about it made his chest twinge, his eyes started mist. He hoped that his family was doing okay.

 

But that’s when something got set off. He thought he was alone until he heard a voice, a small voice in one of the stalls right next to his. It was low and unclear, deeply bone chilling. All thoughts of the outside life of prison had vanished. 

 

Out of instinct, Minseok froze and tried not to make a single sound, not even a peep, and quickly hiked his legs up so that his feet wouldn't be visible. He did not quite understand why he was even hiding in the first place, but he strangely felt afraid.

 

As the voice got louder, it started become more familiar and Minseok had a small wave of relief wash over him, it certainly sounded like some he definitely knew. At first, he almost let out sigh, he thought it was some psychotic guy. 

 

The voice sounded like Iron Monkey, the man started to talk louder and Minseok recognized it immediately. The stiffness in his shoulders lessened, he was considering to step on top of the toilet, look over the stall, and chirp out a hello of some sort and ask him what's wrong. But that relief didn't last very long, he still felt that there was something odd about the tone of the voice. He decided to remain as he was, planted firmly above the toilet seat, body completely motionless.

 

Iron Monkey sounded different, his voice turning jagged, dark, warped, and vulgar.

 

Something felt  very wrong.

 

The words became more audible and clearer, and they were words that he had  least  expected, completely throwing him off. Everything that ran through his ears went like white noise, he refused to continue listening. It’s how the irretrievably mad must talk to themselves early in the day in corners like this, thinking that no one was there, spilling their most obscene desires. 

 

Minseok felt like his lunch was churning around in his stomach and coming back up. How could this possibly be the same man? The same man that smiled to Minseok jovially as he offered him a piece of chewing gum? The same man that brilliantly taught Minseok how to remove dark stains from white shirts? Was this a fucking joke? He faked everything?

 

He began to hear a smile in the crazy man’s voice. What he said next could only have come from a man who should be confined in basement. Now almost whispering--- a hoarse and phlegmy sound. Iron Monkey thought he was all alone with barely even a light to keep him company, his hushed voice echoing off the cement walls in total solitude. Minseok couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he was furious, nauseous, and upset at the same time. 

 

He didn’t want to listen to this average looking man rambling excitedly off-color remarks about a preteen girl he saw walking from the parking lot, he didn’t want to hear him cooing over her, before barbarically muttering how much he wanted to rip off her pleated mini-skirt. 

 

Fuck \-- Minseok squeezed his eyes shut and harshly covered his ears with his sweaty palms, heart beating rapidly. He was so angry, he wanted to jump out and punch the bastard, beat him till he was begging for mercy and choking on his own blood. Iron Monkey was the hidden chomo?

 

It disgusted Minseok that such a dull looking man was a pedophile, living amongst regular people, lying blatantly and  easily to people with bright, practiced smiles. 

 

He should have known. Shit gets overlooked often too many.

 

He figured he would be unable to attack or confront Iron Monkey, he would be overpowered. The man was much taller, much more burlier, but also probably another hundred pounds heavier than Minseok. He felt so useless, just sitting in the stall and hiding out till the elder man left, the true criminal that everybody wanted, but he couldn’t possibly take him on by himself. He was spineless for letting him get away, a hopeless coward. 

 

Despite muffling the pervert’s monologue, his horrendous words lingered in his mind like a leech, sickening to point of clawing his hair and curl into himself.

 

After another minute, he finally heard the stall door closing from his covered ears, footsteps trailing off into the distance, and the bathroom entrance closing with a loud click. There was dead silence. He was finally gone. 

 

Minseok released his ears and rubbed the wetness out his eyes before setting his feet to the cold tiled floor, hesitantly leaving his own stall. His legs nearly gave out, heart still pounding. Everything seemed unreal, a horrible nightmare he wished to wake up from. He was deceived. 

 

Out of bubbling curiosity, he looked around the empty bathroom before proceeding to walk into the stall the chomo was previously in. It’s not like he would still be there? The preteen girl should be gone by now.

 

He wasn’t there. And the family indeed left. 

 

But when Minseok saw the trashcan littered with rumpled, used tissues covered in cum, he immediately backed up and bumped against the wall. He scrambled to the stall next to him, bending over the toilet as he puked with a low gagging sound. His body felt numb, lungs in stinging, heart nearly bursting out of his ribcage.

 

Minseok wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before blowing his nose into a wad of toilet paper. He spat into the toilet twice before he let out a breath. A groan left his trembling lips as he fell flat on his ass, slumping against the wall with a painful clunk. 

 

What an idiot.

 

Did he really let a man like that slip away from his grasp? 

  
 

\----------------

  
 

For that night, Minseok hardly slept a wink of sleep. 

 

He couldn’t figure out what to do, what to do with his horrific discovery. He let such vile creature walk away from his perverse deed, jerking off to the sight of a minor? Just thinking about the chomo made Minseok queasy. 

 

But who should he tell? Who would believe him? He’s just fresh fish. Even if he told his cellmate, the closest convict to him, what would he do? 

 

Prisoner 4012 is just a small in build as he is, and he’s only a mere neutron; there would nobody to tell for him as well. 

 

He doesn’t know what to do. Maybe he should really just not get involved,  at all. Is it really his problem? He questioned what good would it do to even attempt telling anyone. The other gangs can take care of it themselves… right?

 

He wanted to forget. It was a hassle to climb out of his bunk, but he didn’t want a guard to wrestle him out of it either.

 

He splashed his face with a cold water after he bid prisoner 4012 a curt goodmorning. If his cellmate thought Minseok looked like shit, he choose not to call it out. Minseok admired that civilized part of him. With distress, he gazed into the mirror, his lips were flaky from dryness, his eyebags were bruised, his complexion was terrible. The elder sighed as he wiped his face with a coarse towel and dressed himself in his thin uniform. 

 

Minseok dragged his tired body to head over for breakfast. Breakfast was usually nothing more than unseasoned scrambled eggs (salt and pepper had to be purchase from the prison store), a scoop of the plainest and most tasteless oatmeal on earth, some kind of overly sweet powdered orange drink, and the one thing that actually tasted good: a small square of some kind of ginger bread or cake with a dollop of butter on top. But he didn’t feel hungry, he mainly took a couple slow bites and toyed the food with his fork so he just slid his half-eaten tray towards prisoner 4061.

 

After his meal, he was less than ready for his newly assigned job for extra commissary, feeling drained in the morning made him crave a hot cup of coffee.

 

He didn't need to ask for directions, the prison library was a place that he frequented near the most, but never went inside. He’s walked nearby plenty of times, peeking inside to see what it was like, it wasn't big or small, just a good size. However, Minseok had always avoided entering because he often sees huge, brawny dudes hanging in there, and as much as he loves reading, he’d much rather borrow books from his cellmate than get punched in the face into a full blown coma. 

 

But once he got assigned as a library assistant on Wednesdays and Fridays, he was thrilled to hear about the pay per hour. Commissary is necessary especially since he didn’t really like to use powdered soap and needed to skip some institution meals like liver night. All he needed to do was just not to stir up anything with those big guys. Be friendly, courteous. 

 

His job was to mainly clean up books that get thrown around and put them back in the shelves and provide assistance to patrons. Not too difficult. For a person who loves peace and quiet, a library would be the perfect place to be in. The whole chomo incident left a gaping black hole in his mind. 

 

The prison library was laid out in a mirror image to the one that he used to go to when he was a child, nearby his home on the countryside, but it was decorated in a less personal way. 

 

It was surprisingly bigger than he thought. And the second he walked into that space he turned his head and saw a rule that was plastered in bold on the door of the place. So everyone sees it as they're leaving because it was ‘the rule’. 

 

It says,  books are not mailboxes.

 

The Korean man blinked. He had no clue on what the meant. It’s clearly important, but Minseok really didn’t fathom why there would be a need to accentuate it. 

 

Why would you put a letter in a book? There’s a lovely blue tin mailbox planted right next to the prison store. Is the mailbox filtered or something? What's wrong with it?

 

The whole rule made no sense to him. The questions made his head hurt even more, and the lack sleep wasn’t exactly helping either. He’ll eventually find out later, prioritizing a strange rule rather than taking a nap hardly sounded appealing to the man. 

 

As he sauntered in further, he had to clock himself in near the front desk and greeted the librarian with a tired smile, only to receive a quick wave without a glance in reply. He had a nametag on chest chest, Bong-Chol, looked like he was around his late twenties or early thirties. Bland and kind of lenient. 

 

Minseok walked away, there was no need for the guy to show him some ropes. He worked part-time in a library before. 

 

Unintentionally wandering, Minseok noticed that there were an ample amount of novels tucked away in their shelves. He was fairly surprised, he first thought there would be a low number of books to read, but it seems that there was a good variety provided at the prison. Which is fantastic for him, there's no fun in reading the same things over and over again.

 

He actually enjoyed the scent of old books, it was a combination of grassiness with a tang of acids and a hint of vanilla over an underlying mustiness. There were even about a dozen worn out books in a box in the corner (mostly Dean Koontz and self-help dirty junk), and a tiny tube TV mounted high up on the wall whose volume couldn't go above a low whisper. It looked like it was playing an old, gritty, black and white film, most prisoners were actually quite absorbed into the movie, so no one really paid any mind to Minseok.

 

Running his fingertips along the spines, he noticed that there were hardly any dust on them, but some were still quite discolored and frayed from age and wear. 

 

From what he had seen so far, was there was a lot of reading done by inmates? Yes, there’s a couple that couldn't read and just came to learn, but for the most part the inmates that visited the library daily were intelligent, well-read individuals. 

 

There was high traffic in the law library around three o’clock, and the book cart had everything from Harry Potter and Conan novels to classics like Moby Dick, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and Charles Dickens. There was plenty of triple crown publications and music lyric books laying on the tables, stacked up and abandoned for Minseok to put away. 

 

Apparently prisoner’s were not allowed access to hardcover books because they could use it as a weapon. Minseok almost wanted to laugh, nearly anything could be a weapon. 

 

He stuck around for a while, venturing, memorizing which section was which, answering some patrons questions and such. It helped distract him from his thoughts, dissipate the migraine from the morning.

 

There was also a constant need to be vigilant about what items were coming into the library and what items were leaving, and now he finally figured out what that rule meant. 

 

He found out very quickly because within the first hour, one of the guards came in, and Minseok noticed that he was looking at the books, and he thought, oh, guy's looking at the books. That's nice, guards enjoy reading, splendid.

 

But after another second, he started fishing in the books and pulling out papers from them. He then walked over to the librarian and dropped the notes on his desk. 

 

Often times inmates can hardly wait to get that next letter delivered from the mail room. In prison and jail there are few things to look forward to and mail is one of them. Getting mail can be slow, and when a facility goes on lockdown incoming mail deliveries to inmates stop and do not continue until the lockdown is lifted.

 

And convicts would tell each other, “fly me a kite next week”. Minseok, at first, thought to himself, what the heck is that? The Korean male realized they were just talking about the letters themselves.  They were referring to the letters as a kite . Once Minseok folded that into mind, he started to see it everywhere. They were messages from one prisoner to another.

 

Some of these letters were written from men to women and from women to men because this facility had men and women in it. They never shared the same space ever. And the women were housed in the prison tower, almost eleven stories up, sort of Rapunzel style. But for a few hours every night, the women would come down to the library. A lot of the letters were often romantic, sentimental, and even searching for penpals. Some were even  pages long, the prisoners really took a lot of time to write them.

 

The librarian told Minseok that prisoners can even send kites through the toilets. 

 

“You blow the water out of the toilet then drop a long line down to a lower floor. They do the same and your lines tangle, allowing you to send stuff between floors as well. Leaving the water out of the toilet allows your voice to carry through the pipes as well.” Bong-Chol said as Minseok hauled his cart over to him. The librarian was quite nice to him, but also distant. He figured Minseok was too new to know about these letters. These people are not supposed to share personal information about themselves with the convicts, and there is absolutely no physical contact regardless of the sensitive nature of the information shared by offenders. 

 

The elder man pulls out a random book from a shelf and pulls out slip of paper, similar to one that guard had found earlier, placing it on top of another pile of papers. “These notes are another common way for prisoners to exchange illicit information.”

 

It wasn’t the Minseok’s job to intercept the letters, but the librarians and library assistants that come from the outside of prison. 

 

They were supposed to go through all the books and make sure that there weren’t notes being left inside. They consecutively checked book spines for slipped in notes, weapons, or cigarettes that prisoners might try to send to each other. It was also their job to read these letters because they have to find out if something was happening, if there was something of any kind of security importance, and that's what the officers were the most interested in. They want to hear what was going on. 

 

And Minseok’s job ended up being mostly to be the guy who just organizes the books. 

 

Which is good for him, otherwise he’d be beaten into a pulp if they found out he took away their letters. He never dared to open up a book.

 

He would see people furiously writing letters in the library. They came, wrote the letter, and stuck it in the book, and Minseok saw the whole thing just happen in front of him. They were so obvious, plain as day.  And then he would watch other prisoners casually walking up and down the aisle, just looking at the books. 

 

Their eyes would just skim quickly over their spines. Like, that’s not really how people are supposed to look at books. He could tell from the expressions that they had on their face when they were looking for a letter, sometimes solemn and disappointed.

 

Minseok pitied them, the prisoners are yearning to communicate, and these outsiders are just foiling them at the last second? And not only foiling them, but getting to know the content of the message, and the recipient isn't. It just seemed awful, and a complete invasion of privacy.

 

After learning about this, he felt even more sad, his mood was dampened further. The library was starting to become more silent, he managed to power nap in a vacant corner for twenty minutes, and less people came in and more people left. He supposed that it was already four o’clock when inmates usually head back to their cells at this time. 

 

Slightly rejuvenated, Minseok eventually weaved his way to case the law section to return some novels back to their rightful place. It was in the farthest part of the library, more secluded now and deep. There was something creepy about the spot.

 

The books in the shelves were really well organized, which was surprising because of the amount of prisoners that go over in this area. Not much inmates were loitering around at this time, it was kind of eerie, but he didn’t think too much of it. He slid a couple of books in through alphabetical order as usual, but his fingers were getting a little raw and cramped by the paperbacks. 

 

Just another thirty minutes and he would be able to return to his cell and sleep. When he tried squeezing a novel into a tight space, he figured it would be impossible. He attempted to pull one book out, accidently fumbling and dropping another onto the ground in the process. 

 

As he bent down to retrieve to book, a piece of paper had fallen out from the impact, and Minseok unquestionably picked it up and stared at it, he didn’t understand why either.

 

It was written in cheap ballpoint ink that had been blotted by the pages it was between in the book. The handwriting was looping but legible scrawl-- like he or she was rushed, and the writer must have been bearing down hard, because the words were literally engraved into the pages; if Minseok closed his eyes and run his fingertips over the book pages, it would have been like reading Braille. 

 

After scanning it further, he had suddenly come to a realization that the note was completely written in Chinese. Now, even though Yixing lent Minseok a textbook, the Korean male still had no idea as to what the letter said due to his poor language learning skills. But something in his gut told him that this was the type of kites that the prison staff were supposed to be intercepting.

 

A voice came out of nowhere from behind and Minseok jolted, dropping the papers as if he had been scalded. The Korean male didn’t understand what they said, he was too startled to understand what it was; it sounded like Mandarin. He knew he was fucked.

 

Minseok turned around with a fearful look on his face, his voice was locked into his throat, only managing to mutter a quiet apology in reply. But when he looked directly at the man, he was completely stunned by the convict’s features.

 

He was a young looking man, brown eyes that seem like that can nearly gaze deep into one’s soul, lips turned in contempt and arrogance. He took a step closer to Minseok, and the Korean male could already smell cigarettes on him and his clothes. He backed away onto one of the shelves out of instinct, feeling dreadfully cornered. The stranger wore his uniform trousers and a normal blank tank, black hair tousled casually. 

 

He was handsome, slightly taller in build. His neck, chest, and arms were heavily tattooed, wrapped around his body like a snake; the ink was skillfully done as well, Minseok could see elegant roses, stars, vintage lettering, a tiger decorating his skin. On his left forearm, death was dressed in a ballgown and veil, dancing with a faceless man. Even though Minseok was terrified, body covered in cold sweat, he couldn’t help but be in awe of the foreboding convict. 

 

“I believe you shouldn’t be touching what’s  not yours.” The prisoner repeated in perfect Korean, moving closer to the smaller male, he could almost feel his knees give out, but he didn't want to appear so feeble.

 

Minseok’s tried not to appear scared. “I didn't mean to come across this.” He croaked.

 

The convict had this big shit-eating grin on his face and immediately Minseok was on high alert. He waved his hand dismissively.

 

“Sure you didn’t,  you’re a Korean . What are you, a snitch, a rat? You in cahoots with the correctional officers or somethin’?’ The man crossed his arms and smiled smugly with his lips, Minseok glanced at his chest, but the end digits were covered.

 

“No, I’m neither,” Minseok shook his head hurriedly, “The notes fell out, I swear.”

 

The Chinese man laughed, it was more malicious than joy, “Either way, you’re not supposed to touch that book.” He backs Minseok against the bookshelf. “The 19th volume of the Federal Reporter; that’s  my  mailbox.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Minseok defended himself, his voice came out stronger than he intended, “But it was an accident, I had no honest idea. Uh, can’t you just cut me some slack? I’m kind of new here.” He could feel the man’s breath against his skin.

 

“New?” He laughed again, and this time it was humorous one. The male tapped Minseok’s cheek with a short, clean fingernail, “You’re kinda hilarious. New doesn’t mean jack to me. Do you know who I am?”

 

Minseok shut his eyes tightly from the contact, it took several moments for him to conjure a reply, opening them slowly only to see what he dreaded the most. The number sewn on the left part of the man’s chest.

 

“Well shit,”

  
  
 

 

  
 

 

 

A/N

I bet you were annoyed with my ass waiting for Luhan’s entrance lol. Ik my beta reader was lmao. I hope it wasn’t too confusing or boring, I’m sorry for the slow buildup, it’s kind of necessary for the plot ;( Also, there's probably a lot of typos, I'll take care of them soon!

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	3. three

**Warnings: 12k, violence, progress, non-con(If you DON’T want to read another man forcefully touching Minseok, please skip it. It’s towards the end, I’d seriously advise skipping it. It will occur once you see the words 'red dashes here', I’ll summarize in the notes of what happened.)**

 

Minseok whispered breathlessly. He still fixed his gaze on the intimidating inmate, “Y-You’re the--”

 

Luhan sighed, and pulled out a small pocketknife. Minseok’s eyes grew larger in fear at the sudden action.

 

“Come again, I’m the what? Sorry, but I'm just not a big fan of stutterers.” The Chinese man squinted at Minseok before he inspected the stainless steel blade.

 

He was startled of his nonchalance, it was rather unsettling. There was a rock in the Korean male’s throat, far too tough for him to swallow. The shorter male knew he was in a delicate situation, cornered against a wall like a rat, for something he had no ill intentions of. Despite this man’s gentle appearance he still made him uneasy.

 

Minseok gulped, “.... You're the drug dealer here, the Chinese gang leader...”

 

“See? At the least you've got that burned in mind.” He inched closer and Minseok’s heart stirred, he felt slightly threatened; was it strange that he wanted to grab the nearest object and gently smash it against this man’s head? “Now why didn't you seem to memorize my little mail box?”

 

Scratch that, he wants to violently smash against his head. The Korean man's entrails seemed to have turned into ice. The guy seemed to not want to bury this topic, he could see the drug dealer’s lip twitch upward and it made the hair on the back of Minseok’s hair rise sharply.

 

“I'm going to die aren't I?”

 

“You could have died minutes ago,” Luhan said with an iron voice. They weren't touching, but it seemed to him that he could feel his own body shaking.

 

“Would you really kill me over a mailbox?” Minseok inquired, eyes gaping in horror.

 

“Ha, of course. I’d kill anyone.” Luhan made a sound, eyes raking Minseok’s body with a top to bottom sort of scrutiny. He smiled darkly, “But I usually kill the uglier ones much quicker.”

 

Minseok blinked, he felt like if he looked in a mirror, his face would have turned yellow. The man seemed so strangely powerful despite his average frame. His gaze was unreadable and Minseok tongued the corner of his mouth to shake off the dryness.

 

“Thanks, but I still don't want to die.” Minseok snapped his teeth together.

 

A light chuckle slipped from the man’s lips before he lowered his weapon, “I was put off by your stuttering, but you get charming by the second. Your expression looks poised, even though you're trembling. Are you scared? Would you care for a cup of tea, sweetheart?”

 

Minseok furrowed his brows, “Wh--”

 

A gasp left his lips and a thump sound against the shelves startled him before he saw four inmates appear from afar. When he tried to back away, he received a violent kick on the the ankle from Luhan, which nearly flung him off his balance. He felt like heaving. One of the other men neared and smashed his fist into Minseok’s stomach, rendering him to shock and pain.

 

The Korean inmate’s knees buckled as he fell to the ground, almost paralyzed, he clasped his stomach fighting for breath. His eyes stung with tears that were ready to fall.

 

Before he knew it he was lifted from the ground by two muscular prisoners, stopping to take him by the arms. He tried pulling away with a groan, only stumbling in the end.

 

“You don't have much of a choice anyways.” Luhan laughed, watching Minseok’s thrashing form get hauled against one of his gang member’s shoulders. The shorter man tried beating the firm shoulder blades of the prisoner only to result in a boisterous string of insults and commands from him. His arms grew tired, his bellows began to wear and falter.

 

Luhan stared down at Minseok’s face, drenched in sweat and creased in agony

 

Minseok dared not to turn his head even by a millimeter, the harrowing pain in his gut made it harder to struggle and fight back, it devastated him to be easily hoisted like a sack of rice.

 

He caught a glimpse of Yixing, upside down, eyes nearly laced with some type of guilt; and that’s the last person he saw before he blacked out.

 

\------

  
 

He did not know where he was. He awoke in an old, dusty bed with loud springs. With the constant, pungent stench of decay, he could be just in one of the cell blocks, but there was no way of being certain.

 

His vision was blurry, he blinked hard, furiously to sharpen his senses. He was in a high-ceilinged windowless place with walls glittering of the usual grime. It was dark, it was large, it was vacant of any soul. There was a low, steady humming sound which he supposed had something to do with the air supply.

 

A dim, hanging oil lamp sat on what appeared to be a desk, and it gave off an unclean smell, perhaps burning for only four or three hours. The light only reached a scarce amount of surface area.

 

There were several other beds lined up around him, a bench, or shelf, just wide enough to sit on ran round the wall. Most of the shelves appeared to be occupied with bottles and rolls of bandages; he seemed to be in an infirmary of sort.

 

But it looked to be treated with negligence, filthily dirty for what was supposed to be a sterile place. A musty, dank order crept into into nose. From a distance away there were multiple wire shelvings with wheels. Empty medicine bottles were sprawled everywhere. Dirty trays of nuts, bolts, silver implements, worn-out chisels, and other miscellaneous rubbish were scattered along each level. Dust piled upon these bottles and furnishings, coating around each object without a care. The medicine cabinet mirror lay shattered in pieces on the floor tile. The only sound to be heard is the drip, drip of the faucet.

 

… An abandoned infirmary? In the prison facility?

 

He sat up, groaning from a lingering sting. Unsurprisingly, he was sweaty, hair matted onto his forehead despite the drafty place he was in. There was a full aching in his belly, his legs were throbbing. Minseok looked around, cautiously, but also nervously. His heart was still thumping rabidly, ready to lurch out of his rib cage.

 

But he was also hungry, with a gnawing, unwholesome kind of appetite. It might have been twelve hours since he had eaten, it might have been six. He still did not know whether it was morning or night at that very moment. What he longed for above all was a piece of bread.

 

Minseok started to his feet, his mouth was sticky and evil-tasting. The humming sound induced a sort of faintness, an empty feeling in his head. His physical sensations were a little unstable, and his knees were beyond his control. He tried to sink into his own situation. The leader of the gang he tried to get into just threatened to kill him and offer him cup of tea in that time frame. It’s ridiculous. Is today the day he'll really die? Minseok doesn't doubt that it’s possible. He stood where he was, planted firmly to the ground and hoping that it would expand and swallow him whole, fearing somebody would walk in soon.

 

What has he done?

 

More dimly he thought of his other comrades. Somewhere or other, prisoner 4012 and 4061 were reading comic books in their cells or playing goldfish in the dayrooms, perhaps eating lunch or dinner and not in imposing position like him. His disappearance could perhaps mean nothing.

 

There was a sound of marching boots outside the door. Guys came down the stairs and all Minseok could do was remain still. His lips almost trembled. The iron door had opened with a long creak, he was surrounded by about twenty male inmates. Minseok stood silently against a wall, jostled by the strangers, too preoccupied by hunger and the pain in his limbs to take much interest in his surroundings. He looked around carefully trying to conceal his alarm, however they could easily tell he was nervous in the stiffness of his posture. Anyone would be.

 

However, he did not want to show these men his shiver of fear, his underturned eyebrows and cowered spine, he refused to show the weaker outer appearance of his. He stared at his surroundings with a watchful eye and he could definitely see some prisoners sneering. Minseok straightened himself.

 

There was a constant come-and-go of prisoners of every description: thieves, murderers, black marketeers, drunks, drug peddlers, conmen, hackers. He knew who they were, he’s seen them on the news.

 

A young familiar face came from a trimmed and well postured figure. He seemed to glitter all over with power and whose pale, straightly featured face was relaxed and nonchalant had stood dead center of the room.

 

Luhan was standing in front of Minseok, looking down at him intently. At the other side of him stood another man he recognized from the leather room, he’s seen him paired along with Yixing plenty of times. The taller man stepped forward, sticking out his palm with a rusted knife, far more worn or older than the gang leader’s blade he’s seen before.

 

“Prisoner 4099. Ready for your first gang initiation?”

 

Minseok’s looked around wildly. Never did he expect to be in such circumstances.

 

Perhaps it would have been better if he just starved to death.

 

Here he was, standing in the center of some dusty infirmary, surrounded by the scrutiny of roughly twenty dangerous men that would probably snap his neck between their index fingers and thumbs if he made the next worst choice.

 

“You knew?” The short prisoner uttered suddenly.

 

“Well,” The Chinese man shrugged, “I knew for awhile, information doesn't go past me unheard of. It is necessary for me to know everything.”

 

Minseok tried to suppress the temptation of glancing over to Yixing. He didn't plan for his gang initiation to fall like this. It’s rather underwhelming. He frowned in contempt, “I don't have much of a choice.”

 

 _This is what I wanted, right?_ Minseok thought to himself, making a wry face. He should have directed his anger at Yixing, but it was rather subconsciously towards himself.

 

Luhan raised his eyebrows slightly and then the corners of his lips turned. The Korean male obeyed dutifully much to his surprise, looking over at the other Chinese man next to Luhan, he was tall and towered over the two of them.  

 

If he was going to die, he was at least going to die trying.

Minseok acted on impulse and stepped forward and grabbed the weapon from him with a tiny scowling expression.

 

Perhaps it was that stubbornness inside of him that made him grab the knife. He honestly thought everything was happening too quickly for his liking. His mistake has manifested into something much more messier and stickier.

 

“Very well, should I do the honors, sir?” One tall, sturdy man stepped forward with one hand raised, palm rested below his elbow with manner. He looked rigid, but very obedient and loyal to his leader.

 

There was a pause before Luhan replied, face settling back into the well-practiced cold expression he usually wore. He hummed before he looked at Minseok again, and the Korean felt his chest beat wildly.

 

“No.” Luhan said with a wide, boyish grin, “I think this time I’d like to attempt in showing prisoner 4099 what our gang’s knife fights are trulyabout.”

 

Minseok’s heart dropped. What had he been expecting? Some sort of miracle?  

 

He was hungry and tired, perhaps nothing was going to get better for him. He was just going to accept what comes his way.

 

Minseok’s mouth pursed shut as he swallowed his tongue.

 

The prisoners began to move away from the center of the room, providing sufficient space between the Chinese leader and Minseok. It was all happening too quickly. The sense of doubt had filled him, and all hope was gradually lowered.

 

In a normal life outside of prison, if anyone pulled a blade on Minseok, he would be running his ass off. He was unprepared, having been sheltered his entire life by lying low, studying diligently, getting a degree and a job, he knew he was lacking in this criteria. Knife defense is one of the most difficult things in martial arts.

 

For someone with no experience, standing and fighting was basically suicide.

 

Dimly aware of the hush that befell the crowd, Minseok faced his opponent and waited. He would let Luhan make the first move.

 

However, there was silence, and the leader merely watched. Luhan’s face was completely inscrutable, not even a flicker of meaning was left for Minseok to interpret. Perhaps he was supposed to go first. Minseok discreetly moved his head side to side, checking his surroundings. Everyone was watching.

 

A twinge of fear went through him like electricity.

 

His fingers tightly clenched against the weapon, looking at it with fearful determination. His stance was guarded.

 

Once Minseok pressed the button on the rusty knife, the blade flew out with a stiff click, Luhan sneered, completely startling the Korean prisoner.

 

The elder’s face contorted, feeling belittled. The hand that contained the weapon went slack, Minseok was very put-off.

 

It was strange, Luhan’s knife never opened. Instead he straightened himself and stood still before suddenly clapping out loud.

 

Minseok could do nothing but freeze in bewilderment.

 

It was dead silent besides the single applause made by the leader. All eyes turned to the leader.

 

“Alright, show’s over guys.” He applauded, expression unreadable. “This initiation has ended. Run along, there's nothing to see here anymore, I’d appreciate if you guys head back to work or to the day rooms.”

 

Minseok looked around in utter confusion. There were a few murmurs, but nonetheless it was still quiet. No prisoner moved until Luhan raised his voice, “That means fuck off! Now move it.”

 

Disgruntled questioning permeates the room, and Minseok stood still; he couldn't quite comprehend what just happened. The room immediately started to become more empty, prisoner began to scramble to the door.

 

It was like he was defeated. He oddly felt ashamed.

 

Yixing glanced at the gang leader before giving Minseok a sympathetic look, “Well. Prisoner 4099, you failed.”

 

“What?” Minseok unconsciously blurted out.

 

“You're not fit to be in the gang, is what it's supposed to be mean.” Luhan interrupted curtly, and he looked at Yixing to excuse him, “I considered it at first, but my speculations have been confirmed. Therefore, _you cannot become a member.”_

 

Minseok stumbled on his tongue, ignoring the emptying room. Yixing hesitantly walked out of the infirmary, head turned to look back at the Korean before mouthing a small sorry. It was just Luhan and him.

 

But that means there's more space and freedom for him to get pissed at the latter, “What are you raving about? I didn't even do anything.”

 

“You did.” Luhan pressed on.

 

Irritation bubbled in him. “For fuck’s sake, if you’re just messing around and not taking me seriously I'm--”

 

The man sighs. “What’s your crime, 4099?” Luhan cut him off boredly.

 

He shut his mouth and stared. “... I killed a man?” Minseok said with hesitance. “You've probably seen my papers by now. Why would you be asking me again.”

 

“But why did you kill him?” The Chinese man asked, he started to sound rather amused. “Revenge? Did he touch you?”

 

Minseok was blushing to the roots of his hair, evidently uncomfortable by the comment. “No! No… It’s not that, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

 

“Then how do I know that _you’re_ not the chomo?”

 

Minseok is still non-affiliated in a gang, it's no surprise that people would just brush him off as the boy who cried wolf. He had no evidence.

 

He smiled rebelliously, but it looked more like a grimace. “I _will not_ tell you shit about me, but I know for a fact that I would not harm a child.”

 

“Ah, here's the thing. I'm merely pulling your leg; I do _know_ who you are. I’ve recognized you right when I first saw you arrive here; pretty well-informed with the news of course.” Luhan said without missing a beat, “Yes, you're an accountant. But your case was different from the rest. You murdered a man, but the way you killed him was a bit bizarre.”

 

Minseok swallowed thickly. “I don't know what you’re talking about,” he tried to stabilize the waver in his own voice. “You sure you're not mistaking me for someone else?”

 

“Nope, I'm quite sure. Nothing adds up.”  His eyes perk in slight engrossment, “How in the world did you do it? Kill the man I mean, of course.”

 

“What are you implying?”

 

Luhan started to step forward with a stride, hands in his pockets, “I've had a few of my members keep eye on you for awhile, _Kim Minseok_.”

 

At that, Minseok looked at him crazily. This guy knew his name. “How did you--”

 

“I made Yixing look into it before you arrived into the facility.”

 

Minseok was baffled, “You made Yixing interact with me? You made Yixing recruit me?”

 

“You’re probably wondering, ‘why me? What did I do to gain your attention?’” Luhan questioned, ignoring his question blatantly; it was automatically a rhetorical anyways.

 

The Korean male paused within the silence before replying, “That too… Yes.”

 

“All we know about your background is that you’re single, came from a middle class family and that your mother, remarried a man from a wealthier family, some normal stuff.” He shifted on one leg, “What caught my attention the most was the fact that you killed your step-father with a switchblade--- _just_ like this one here--- buried his body in a shallow grave in the woods, and three hours later you came up to a station to _turn_ _yourself_ _in_.”

 

Minseok glared meekly at the leader, as he remained silent, lips pursed. His throat constricted listening to the other recall the event accurately, the same one widely reported on television.

 

“Now, I understand that only dimwitted idiots turn themselves in because of their guilty conscience, but you clearly do not seem like an idiot.”

 

“Are you seriously gonna keep dragging this on? I'm no idiot. What's the problem here?” Minseok snapped.

 

The Chinese leader ignored him with a sly smile. “I've seen you in the newspapers. However, the one main thing that rises to question is _why_ you are here. Let’s look at the way you held the switchblade during the initiation, shall we?”

 

“Huh?”

 

Minseok was taken aback. Luhan steps behind the elder and grabs at Minseok’s neck to hold him in place, almost like grasping the scruff of a kitten. It was a firm grip.

 

The Korean bit his lip to stifle himself from crying out in pain, eyes beginning to sting with tears.

 

4007’s grip was stronger than he imagined, he straightened the knife back into Minseok’s right hand, placing his on top of the Korean’s. With a firm grip, he started guiding the hand, flicking the weapon upwards with a quick click.

 

Unlike how Minseok first pointed it, the knife was pointing upwards. Cold sweat perspired at his temple.

 

His skin started to crawl and he wanted to leave, he realized what he had done— it was such a simple mistake, and yet he really _did_ screwed up. A hot sweat had broken out all over Minseok’s body.

 

 _Damnit_ , Minseok thought to himself.

 

“Mmm, I’ve grown up amidst knife fights in my neighborhood, and this shows, with correct use of a switchblade, no one this much shorter than his opponent would have held a switchblade in such a way as to stab downward, as the grip would have been too awkward and the act of changing hands too time-consuming as well. Someone much shorter than his opponent would stab underhanded at an upwards angle.” Luhan said as he held Minseok closely. “Your handling of this sort of knife is incorrect, my dear.”

 

Minseok felt the wind get knocked out from his lungs just from the leader’s words. During the initiation he had held the knife in a downwards motion.

 

He was filled with dread, Luhan’s body felt intensely hot against his, but brain was telling him to move. There’s a moment where it looks like one or more of them might argue but then 4007 lets out a breathy chuckle.

 

Minseok instantly wanted to run.

 

“You’re not a murderer, Kim Minseok.”

 

The hand on his own burned, the palms and the finger tips. A strangled sound escaped from his throat before he mentally shook his head. He clumsily tried to pry the man's hand off of him.

 

The Korean male regathered his bearings, he pulled out of the taller man’s hold angrily. A sudden ferocity lit his face before he raised his voice, “Are you out of your mind? What kind of dumbass would go to prison willingly? _No one_.”

 

4007 smiled smugly, shrugging, “I'm sure you have a story, but what are you doing here? You may be an accountant, but you're not very smart. I don't quite understand how you managed to survive so far.” He tugs onto Minseok’s collar, bringing his face closer to his own, “Listen, you're obviously not a killer. I hoped to make some good use out of you, but now I'm disappointed.”

 

“I _can_ be useful, I’ve been into accounting for almost—”

 

“ _For almost five years,_ whatever.” Luhan finished with a mocking voice, finally letting go. “It doesn't matter. You only fell into a trap because of your stupid pride and you dug a deeper hole in it if you can't convince people that you killed that man. I had high hopes. You can't even fight or defend yourself. Just because you've got the brains doesn't mean you should be so vulnerable. The way you held the knife would have gotten yourself killed.”

 

“Anyone can hold a knife however! I admit it looks foolish, but Ineed to be in a gang no matter what. Doesn't matter whose.” Minseok defended. “Your accusations mean nothing, believe what you want.”

 

“You’ve never held a knife like this in your entire life, Mr. Kim.” Luhan said loudly. The shorter prisoner flinched and clamped his mouth shut.

 

“You joined because you needed protection, correct?” He leaned in, continuing on, “Like you said, it can be any gang. Go search else where, how can you be protected when you have no use to me whatsoever? At least for next time you'll know how to hold a knife.”

 

Minseok harshly pulls away with a scowl, he was starting to get fed up, “Stop,” he wanted to spit on the man’s face, he knows nothing about Minseok yet he tried to talk him down like he was nothing but lower than dirt. “I have my own reasons. What does me not being a killer have to do with this?”

 

 _“Because I need someone who can't blink an eye to death_.” 4007 said plainly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “We don't have room for cowards in my gang. And whether or not you're the killer, you're still a weak pawn. Let alone you have no basic understanding of Chinese. Do you even know any English, my friend?”

 

Minseok glares, lips nearly turned into a snarl.

 

4007 raised a brow, “Now you're quiet? I'm not quite sure whether or not you're a rabid dog or just a hissing stray cat.”

 

“ _Fuck you_ , you used Yixing and tricked me. For what reason? To humiliate me?”

 

“Think of it as a fair shake, or something like the lottery. Unfortunately, I thought you would be a fighter and a thinker, but you're just all talk, no bite. Where’s your claws?” 4007 gestured, “I don't know why I shouldn't kill you right now.”

 

“I c _an_ fight. I _can_ kill.” Minseok said through his teeth. He turned his body, ready to leave, “Forget it, I should have never bothered to try to join your shitty gang from the start. You're all just a bunch of hormonal men who step on others to get what you need.”

 

Luhan grabbed his chin and Minseok instinctively stopped his movements, but he does not dare break his gaze, “and that filthy, disrespectful mouth of yours will be your one way ticket away out of here.”

 

Minseok clutched the knife in his hand tighter in his palm. He could stab him right now, this guy was getting on his nerves.

 

Sure, he was right. Minseok didn't kill the man that the news claimed. But he certainly didn't want this 4007 bastard to get this spreaded around.

 

It didn't have to be dug into, it shouldn’t be excavated.

 

He could try to threaten him with the knife, but should he really risk it? Are there other gang members waiting outside the door to pounce on him and beat the crap out of his vulnerable self in his own fatigued state?

 

“Why are you so adamant on harassing me?” Minseok asked. “You're gonna kill me because I failed? Or because I accidentally touched your stupid mailbox?”

 

“I can kill prisoners over the most trivial matters, and boy oh boy, that attitude of yours is starting to wear me out.” Minseok can see the veins running along the other’s forehead. His patience was running thin.

 

“How about stop fucking around with me?”

 

The taller scoffs, scrutinizing Minseok for a moment. He grinned, pocketing his own knife, “Perhaps you’re right, I'm not gonna kill you. Let alone in this time of the day, I've got better things to do. Maybe I wasted my time? I could just leave you alone as you are. I can pretend that this never happened, but I'll never forget what happened either. How does that sound?”

 

“You must be joking.” Minseok said flatly.

 

“Maybe. I mean you not only touched what was mine, but you also found out how our mailing system works.” Luhan said, feigning woe, “Would be a darn shame to see that slip out.”

 

Minseok stiffened, he tried to lie, “I didn't find out, I have no clue what you're talking about this time.”

 

There was silence and Luhan hardly looked convinced.

 

“Alright. I’m not going to beat around the bush any longer, I'm not feeling that petty at the moment,” Luhan laughed suddenly as he up his hands up sardonically, seeming to make light of Minseok, “Should I be honest? I’d hate to break your fragile little feelings, but this whole time my intentions were _never_ to have you strictly as a gang member. The entire time you've arrived in this prison, several of my members have talked to me about this new fresh meat in town, talking about that face of yours.”

 

The Korean raised both brows and his body tenses, “Excuse me?”

 

“You see, inmates need to release pent-up frustrations and stresses— my gang is certainly no exception, of course. Abstinence is barely practiced in a joint like this. I merely wanted to propose an offer before my mind had changed, before the whole mail ordeal. Protection is important here in prison after all. The offer was actually turning you into the gang’s resident cocksleeve in exchange for gang protection.” Luhan said, voice light heartedly soft, yet frightening.

 

“Your gang’s what?” Minseok cried.He was beyond shocked, sickened beyond disgust. Never did he expect such words to reach his ears. He wanted to pour hydrogen peroxide in his ears to cleanse them.

 

Does he look like a goddamn plaything to him? He’s no prostitute, and certainly no cocksleeve either.

 

“ _Absolutely. Not._

 

“Hey, hey who are you to deny a chance like this? We would happily welcome you with open arms!” The drug dealer said with a sly smile. “You had just failed in becoming a member. I gave you an opportunity, you lost, _and now I have given you another_.”

 

Minseok was furious. “In what damn way is this an opportunity? I’m not a goddamn fruit!” The shorter seethed. It mortified him, to be degraded that low is absolutely unacceptable. Never in his life would he expect to bow down in submission to a man, let alone a criminal.

 

He suddenly remembered Yixing’s words ring in the back of his mind: _Lighten up, it’s far much better than whoring yourself for a pack of cigs._

 

That son of a bitch meant whoring himself to get exclusive gang protection? Why not put a cherry on top?  

 

Because no fucking thanks!

 

Minseok gulped, he was thinking, he could almost hear the wheels turning and the cogs clicking. His eyes lingered on the barred window behind the leader. A light went on in his eyes as he remembered something. Perhaps this piece of information could bring him higher into the ranks.

 

He was starting to grow desperate.

 

“Wait please.” He tries to plea. “Let's not jump to such wild options here.” Minseok backed up nervously. “What if I had information on the chomo? I heard you were looking for him. What if I could tell you who it is?”

 

Luhan blinked and leaned back in a casual manner. “I am all ears.”

 

Minseok blanched at the lack of reaction, his arms rested at his sides with a sort of crushed lethargy.

 

“... It seems we've been at cross purposes, doesn't it?” Minseok murmured weakly.

 

Luhan smiled. “I’m glad you’re aware of your own circumstances.” The taller said with a mild, almost humorous irony.

 

Minseok swallowed thickly before he spoke, directly meeting the leader’s eyes, “Iron Monkey, prisoner 4150. It has to be him.”

 

A smirk was plastered on the Chinese man’s face, eyes gleaming with flippancy, arm drawing closer to Minseok. The tips of his fingers barely touched his wet, black, unruly bangs, and the shorter inmate could feel the other man’s body heat. Minseok thought he stopped breathing for a moment. “Come to this room within five days once you find solid evidence.”

 

Minseok immediately felt cold all over.

 

“... Deal.”

 

\------------

 

The Korean man had no clue how to get back to his cell, but had no clue on how he got there in that infirmary in the first place. He ruffled his hair in frustration, he wished he used to his commissary to buy himself a watch. None of clocks in the abandoned area were working. Too much was going on right now. With a small inquiry for directions, Luhan had escorted him out of the infirmary and gave him some apathetic verbal instructions on how to return to the day rooms.

 

Head up the stairs, go straight, left turn from the inoperative drinking fountain, and then left again.

 

There was a coercive emphasis on telling Minseok to figure it on his own. He had no worries over the other man, Minseok assumed that Luhan would use his power and bribery to get away with things as trivial as roll call.

 

Unfortunately, Minseok had none of that.

 

“Consider that pocket knife as a gift,” Luhan called out with a light laugh, “that blade you stole from the leather room would do little to nothing to save your own ass.”

 

Minseok coloured once he left, feeling the rusty, out-dated knife burn in his palms. He slid it into his pocket before he walked out, trying not to mumble angrily to himself.

 

The prison seemed to have been built in the 1930s or thereabouts, and the areas that were abandoned were just about to be falling into pieces. It looked as if it had already begun its descent into shabbiness and eventual demolition. There were multiple rooms that were either empty or completely boarded up with plywood.

 

The deserted walkway leading up to the way out was cracked, almost as if the whole flooring could collapse with wide step. The plaster flaked constantly from the ceilings and walls, there were even unconcealed pipes above him that were leaking some sort of murky water, and Minseok’s face scrunched up as he held his nose from the foul stench. Thin cobwebs covered the bottom corners of the rusted metal, tiny black spiders sat along the thread.

 

He followed the directions attentively, but after that he grew lost. His eyes swam around searching for a sign. After looking all over, he found a large pile of rubble, distinguishable enough to tell that it was the foot staircase that had fallen apart. In the corner, there was strong, mesh rope ladder leading up to the rest of the steps, it was that type of military rope that you would find in a boot camp.

 

The Korean man hesitated a bit, worried that he would fall, but he needed to get back to roll call fast, he didn’t want to risk causing a lockdown of some sort.

 

He made a disgruntled sound as he climbed up, feet wobbling. The fibers groaned and stretched from his weight, but fortunately enough, the rope seemed to be fairly new compared to the rest of the old, restricted area.

 

As he cautiously moved over to the rest of the steps, he reached over with his left leg and hopped onto the cracked concrete. Once he made it to entrance, he noticed that there were heft stacks of pallets blocking him. He flinched when the biting wind hit his cheeks, but he turned left and saw there was enough space to quickly slip out. He was able to see his own breath, the night time weather was always so cold and unpleasant.

 

Surprised by how the entrance lead to the courtyard, Minseok gazed upward at the sky. A sigh of relief left his lips, it was dark, perhaps around five pm, but it was still light enough to make it before roll call. Overhead, the stars were out. He walked away from the hidden entrance with quiet footsteps, he heard many voices, there were still plenty of prisoners hanging around in the courtyard during Association time. Thankfully, it was still a weekday, as this period would be extended than the weekends.

 

After looking back at the stacks of wooden pallets, Minseok scoffed aloud, there should be more than one entrance to the abandoned hideout area, and Luhan most likely just gave him directions to the most rugged and shittiest exit.

 

Minseok felt mentally worn down, his limbs felt heavy and he was just exhausted. The outdoor air was refreshing in comparison to that musty rot in the abandoned part of the prison. Most of prisoners in the yard were either smoking in corners, chatting, or playing ball games.

 

He eventually walked around, trying to not appear suspicious. After a while he headed over to a vacant bench. He sat down haggardly and dug his feet in the gravel and lit a ratty cigarette he had saved. He glanced around for any guards before he held the tip against the flame of a battered Zippo lighter.

 

In the momentary flicker of flame, he wasn’t certain if there was sweat or tears running down his cheeks, even though the outside was bleakly chilly.

 

His fingers shaked unsteadily as he held the cig to his lips. The shorter male sucked in smoke, there was tightness in his lungs and then he hoarsely coughed it out, feeling it all burn. The nicotine rush was a small high, a light-headed pleasant hazy feeling, something he hasn't felt it years. He probably hasn’t smoked since he was a teenager, and now just felt like the right time to take a quick drag before heading back to his cell.

 

Then, his mind was nearly blank. He couldn't assimilate what had just happened.

 

How in the hell could he find proof that Iron Monkey is the chomo? With such little money and technology he has on him now, he’s merely walking in the dark with a blindfold. He wanted to laugh.

 

Minseok knew he was treading on thin ice, and he just created a deep grave for himself, with his own damned hands. All of this happened because Luhan’s gang can't fucking keep it in their goddamn pants. It wasn't a lie when Minseok said they were disgusting, hormonal men. It feels like being back at school at the wrong end of your life.

 

And now Luhan knows this: that Kim Minseok isn't killer, never was one. Whether or not this would change anything, is something the shorter male fears to find out, but nonetheless he cannot let this affect his sentence.

 

Minseok inhaled the smoke without a struggle this time. He’s in his late twenties, yet he still find himself holding the cigarette awkwardly(although he won’t admit that he was slightly pleased that he had smoked a piece of contraband for the first time in prison).

 

Ha squeezed his eyes together tightly, he needs to be in Luhan’s gang just so that man can keep his mouth shut.

 

Minseok stood up and tossed the cigarette to the ground and grinded the sole of his shoes onto it. He’ll still never grow to appreciate the taste of tobacco, it just never suited him. He left the courtyard quietly and began to head over back to the cell blocks, a nap before dinner sounded absolutely divine at the moment. The comfort of his thin sheets and cement-like bed was more welcoming than anywhere else in the prison.

 

He sighed.

 

Five days to find proof is not enough. It really isn't.

 

Minseok had spent two hours sitting in one of the recreation rooms (after promptly waking up from his nap, of course), he attempted to conspire some kind of well-executed plot against Iron Monkey, but unsurprisingly came up with nothing. He missed dinner, but in the end, he was never able to build up an appetite. His cellmate, 4012, is almost never in the cellblock area at these times. Minseok only planted himself down into a table in the middle of room, staring absentmindedly at some out-dated fantasy fiction magazine for over one hundred and twenty minutes straight. He must’ve looked laughable and foolish to the other convicts, but he _really_ didn’t care.

 

After roll call, the vast iron door was slammed shut. The prison officers don’t have to lock it, only unlock it, as there is no handle on the inside. A very small electric lantern was lit, he found his cellmate sitting at his own desk, writing what appeared to be yellowed parchment. The pencil he was holding was dull and tiny, about the size of a child’s pinky. Minseok was astonished to see a piece of carrot cake placed on a napkin waiting on his own desk, his lips parted in surprise.

 

“Where have you been?” 4012 asked casually, he didn’t turn around to look at Minseok. He never stopped writing either.

 

Minseok headed over to the wash bin and cleaned himself up with a dampened washcloth.

 

“Long day,” He began softly, “I was… I was a little lost and eventually found my way back.”It wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. Before he tossed the cake into his mouth, he genuinely muttered a thanks 4012.

 

The man let an indifferent hum, Minseok noticed that 4012’s handwriting was notably minuscule, tightknit, and neat.

 

“Are you writing a letter to someone? Family?” Minseok inquired while brushing his short, wetted hair with a plastic comb.

 

There was a long pause before his cellmate replied, and all Minseok could think that he had perhaps asked something too intrusive. However, what he said next mildly stunned him.

 

“Yeah,” his cellmate said wheedlingly, “I’m writing to my younger sister.”

 

There was a call for lights outs, and 4012 hesitatingly stopped writing, placing his paper and pencil gingerly into his desk. Minseok climbed up his bunk, and glanced over to see the other man shut off his lamp. It was strange, because Minseok had never seen his cellmate receive a single letter throughout his entire stay at the prison. He tried to shake it off.

 

“Goodnight, bunkie.” Minseok whispered quietly into the air.

 

“Night.”

 

\-------

 

It was core day today, prisoners were to be unlocked in the morning to go to work or education, return to the wing for lunch, then get unlocked again for afternoon work or classes. However, the next morning only had filled Minseok with more than just panic— in fact he was frightened by the words the taller inmate had spouted vividly to him once he was pinned. He figured that what had occurred yesterday came with consequences, but he didn’t think it would bite him in the ass so quickly.

 

“It's a hive mentality, you just _don't_ go against them!” 4061 whispered angrily as he pulled Minseok behind a secluded wall so that no one could hear them. He clearly did not look happy. The taller man’s eyebrows were furrowed and he looked awfully concerned.

 

“What on earth are you talking about?!” Minseok whispered back sharply. 4061 eyes flitted around before stared back at the shorter man. Their eyes locked and he sighed heavily. He fisted at the back of Minseok’s collar, signaling him to follow. Minseok did so sparingly.

 

4061 led Minseok to one of the more older storerooms, just near this drinking fountain that was known to be the most nastiest fixtures in the prison, it was nearly broken and unused-looking— 4061 clearly wanted this conversation to be hidden.

 

“Listen, word spread that you accused Iron Monkey as the chomo.” He leaned in closely, 4061 tried not to sound too worried, but he failed to mask the shaking in his voice. “This can’t be right, you’re not insane enough to do such a thing.”

 

He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting but his mouth was filled with a bitter taste, “... I did.”

 

4061’s eyes widened like saucers, “Are you outta your mind? Iron monkey is the most smartest, nicest, and efficient guy out there!” The taller was flabbergasted, “Not only that, but _he’s a fucking neutron.”_

 

Minseok felt his blood boil. If only he knew. “ _Nice_ ?” He almost barked out into laughter even though his insides twisted and turned.  “Yeah, _nice enough to touch little kids and inhumanly murder them._ ”

 

“What are you trying to do here?” The taller inmate’s voice sounded cold when it reached his ears. “That guy has been here longer than you, he’s done more favors than you could imagine. You’re just a fish, you can’t just go prancing around here pointing your itty bitty lil’ fingers at somebody!”

 

“I’m not!” Minseok defended, absolutely distressed, “Would you really think a nobody like me would come up with something as crazy as this for no reason?”

 

“How can I trust you?” 4061 glowered, “Iron Monkey has never caused any trouble. You’re just some new guy trying to save his own ass.”

 

Minseok squeezed his eyes together feeling betrayed, “Do you really think that?” He wouldn't deny that the entire time since he’s arrived in prison, he had only thought about himself, him only.

 

“Fuck!” 4061’s left hand latched onto his scalp in frustration, pacing back and forth in the empty hallway. “There’s only one reason why you would do this— stirring a random fuss. 4099, are _you_ the chomo?”

 

Minseok’s expression had become crestfallen, he’s never felt so wronged and isolated in his entire life. He’s just not ready to take in another crime he didn't commit. “You really don't believe me, do you?” The shorter man’s voice shaked.

 

Something 4061 saw on Minseok’s face tightened his lips over that reduced set of teeth. He stayed silent.

 

“If I could find you proof, proof that it isn't me would you talk to me normally again?” Minseok was hurt, he trusted 4061 like a friend, but to think the latter would sever their ties so quickly broke his heart more than he expected. Even if he did find proof, he feared that their relationship wouldn't be the same anymore.

 

4061’s expression was slightly floored, but with that readable look in his eyes, Minseok could tell that he was still wary. Minseok closed his eyes, he pivoted his foot and walked away before he could hear the man’s reply. Minseok heard a call for his number, but he kept walking, he didn't feel like continuing the conversation at all.

 

His heart was beating very quickly, he stomped out of the hallway and tried to find a shortcut back to his own cell. He glanced around for men. Encountering any more prisoners will cause more harm than good, he knew he was in big trouble, rumors will spread and they _will_ eventually reach Iron Monkey.

 

Once that happens, Minseok will most likely get jugged.

 

A shiver ran down his spine, adding a heavier weight down his shoulders, ‘jugged’ was a new term he had learned recently. It's a jug of a handmade mixture: boiling hot water and a bag of sugar to form a hot syrup. This concoction would either be thrown at the victim’s face or two cons would hold him down while the liquid is slowly poured over his face. The skin would peel off of his face, and the sugar dissolves, leaving the man disfigured for the rest of his life.

 

Minseok was appalled, he couldn't imagine the excruciating agony itself, or the fact that there _are_ people out to get him.

 

Of course when he returned to his own cell, there were some glances and stares burning the back of his head. It made his chest feel like collapsing, racked with anxiety. When he headed inside his cell released a large breath of air that he didn't realize he was holding.

 

When he sauntered in deeper in the room, he turned his head, eyes locked with another wider pair. 4012 looked up at Minseok with diffidence, but they were aloof as well. There was a paperback book in his lap and the radio set next to him was turned on, playing _Tu Es Partout_ fuzzily.

 

“Hello,” 4012 chided, “Is the volume too loud you?”

 

Minseok didn't intend to gawk at the other man for too long, and he caught himself before doing so. He swallowed before he shook his head, “N-no. It’s fine.”

 

“Alright,” his cellmate said, eyes falling back down to continue reading his book. Minseok was rattled by the way he disregarded him, perhaps 4012 had no clue about the rumors.

 

The elder headed over to his own desk, hastily rummaging to search for the pocket knife Luhan had given him, luckily enough for him, the officers had yet to do a desk search this week. He quickly slid the weapon into his back pocket and turned around to see 4012 staring back at him.

 

“I figure you're not the chomo.” The cellmate said matter-of-factly, and it left Minseok utterly puzzled.

 

“... R-really?” Minseok whispered with disbelief.

 

“You don't give me the impression.” 4012 turned a page in his book, flattening it down firmly, “You seem to be in dilemma. Wanna talk it out?”

 

Minseok was too dumbfounded to reply. 4012, perhaps a bit impatiently, raised a brow and gestured with his eyes toward the end of his bed to have a seat. “If you really are the chomo, then don't sit there.”

 

The feline-eyed male scrambled to the directed area of the bed, quickly sitting down. He clenched unconsciously, fingers tightening till his knuckles turned white, “... where do I even start.”

 

“Start wherever you’d like. Say what you want to say.”

 

The elder looked down into his palms, all embedded with fine lines and scars, “My name… my name is Kim Minseok, twenty-seven years old, born in Gyeonggi Province. I am charged for voluntary manslaughter. I… I killed my own step-father.”

 

“Why’d you kill him?”

 

Minseok hesitated for a bit. “He wasn't a good man,” he was a wonderful man, actually, but despite his well-practiced lie, his own eyes starting to sting. He trained himself to say these things, but the dishonesty still pained him. “He was strict, cold, and.. and he would beat my mom when he was drunk… I hated him. One day I visited my parents, a fight broke out. I stabbed him with a knife in the heat of the moment.”

 

Tears started to stream down Minseok’s face and he couldn't stop them. It was terribly odd, he was distinctly taken aback by his own tears, they were hot on his cheeks. The cellmate was just as stunned as he was, despite his constant, detached expressions.

 

With a faltering hand, he started to comfort Minseok by patting his back.

 

“When I was doing janitor duty, it was roughly in the morning, exactly four days ago. 10:20 am for the bathrooms and the hallways.” Minseok explained with a croak, “I stayed back while almost everyone left. I wanted to be alone for a bit.”

 

Minseok told 4012 the details of what he heard and saw the bathroom when Iron Monkey arrived in one of the stalls; a summary of what he atrocities he said, the girl, and the inappropriate act of masturbation. His original image of Iron Monkey was shattered. There was a long momentary silence, it wasn't awkward either. It was the type of silence needed to bask in.

 

“Minseok,” 4012 said his name and sounded foreign for him, he hadn't heard it in a long whole, but in a way, it felt comforting in his ears, “It's not that I think you're lying. I don't condemn you. But I can't be biased in a situation like this.”

 

Minseok wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, “I can't figure out how to record him or get physical proof of him admitting it. I don’t have a camera and I just can't bring that stupid Chinese gang leader guy over and it'll just magically happen.”

 

“I may be a neutron and your cellmate, but I can't vouch for you unless I see the guy admitting to his crime.” 4012 said as he slotted in a bookmark in his novel, “If get caught in your mess I'll get my throat slit.”

 

Minseok nodded, “I understand if there’s nothing you can do about it. I just wanted to let you know, that's all that matters really.”

 

4012 pursed his lips, thinking. He turned to look at Minseok, “Well, figure out what you canonyour own. I can be your alibi, but I'm not going to get involved physically with the two of you.” 4012 proposed. “Since I'm a neutron I won't be exactly on a side. That would ruthlessly destroy my credibility. I'll just say what I heard: nothing more, nothing less.”

 

Minseok widened his eyes, “Could you really do that?”

 

He shrugged, “I could. Don't take it to heart though, I'm not doing this as a friend. Because I'm not anyone’s friend, got that?”

 

Minseok nodded his head frantically again, he felt like crying again. “Yes!” Waves of relief fell over him. “Of course.”

 

“Alright.” 4012 said, smoothing out the lines in his bedsheet, “We all start somewhere. Do what you need to do. Plan it out. Let me know ahead of time. Then execute it. That’s all.”

 

Minseok stood up for the bed, thanking 4012 profusely, “I’ll be indebted to you. Even if it doesn't work out, I will owe you no matter what happens.”

 

The cellmate waved his hand in dismissal, “Go over to my drawer and grab my glasses case.”

 

Minseok was first confused at the command, but did as he was instructed. He pulled open the drawer, seeing many letters filling the desk, in the corner was a velvet green case. He picked it up and walked over to the other inmate. 4012 shook his head and told Minseok to open it. Inside where a couple of small whetstones, about the size of a piece of gum, used for sharpening blades.

 

“Worst case scenario would be that he gets angry and shanks you. Take one of those. That knife you got there is a good one, but it’s old. You need to sharpen it. ” 4012 said.

 

Minseok was in awe, “Thank you, I really do mean it.”

 

“Don't mention it.” The cellmate grabbed his paperback and waved it around, “Care to let me finish my book now?”

“Of course.” He said softly. 4012 nodded and opened up his book again.

 

Minseok walked over to the sink to rinse off the grime from his pocket knife. He let the faucet run to let the water heat up, his chest swelled up with gratitude and amazement. Just the sheer spillings about his own identity and predicament felt like it just lifted off a weight.

 

Even though that it is just one one person that knows the truth, he felt like it was plenty. 4012 believed he wasn't a chomo and that alone was enough for him. The elder took out his own washcloth and immersed it in warm water.

 

“Minseok,”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I’m Kyungsoo.”

 

———--------------------- (red dashes here)

 

Association time was over by the time 4012 finished his book, and Minseok cleaned off as much rust as he could on the blade. He eventually spent most of his break honing the knife and examining the springs. To be honest, it nearly looked as good as new. He computed that he would merely sharpen it, he would only use it when necessary; he has no intentions to aggravate the nonce and risk his life. If he were to have bring it out and get caught with a weapon, more years would be added to his sentence.

 

In twenty minutes, he could only restlessly anticipate what was going happen next: workshop. He was told to report to the workshops, and Minseok knew Iron Monkey would be there as well. Before the guards would do roll call again, Minseok immediately envisioned the layout of the area. He told Kyungsoo that he should linger around the washrooms near Medical Section 103, and the younger agreed. After attendance check, they had parted empathetically.

 

He does not know what to expect, what to feel, and how to react, but it was evident that danger was to come. Another long trek to a different part of the building. He was following in line with about three inmates from his own block. This time, the prisoners were taken into a large square room about the same size of a chapel, but with whitewashed, unadorned brick walls. The first person he recognized was Iron Monkey, of course, who was seated next to a prison officer behind a trestle at the top of the room.

 

It was quite difficult to look at the both of them, the officer sat with a scowl on his face, he had a chinless, toothy face that looked similar to some large rat. He was obviously the works manager. Iron Monkey pierced Minseok with a glare, and all the Korean male could do was frantically avoid looking at him, the switchblade seemed to have felt even heavier in his pocket.

 

The work room had five rows of tables, each about thirty feet in length, with prisoners that had arrived earlier seated on both sides, making up a chain gang. Minseok’s group consisted of five inmates whose purpose was to fill a small bag with all ingredients necessary to make a small cup of tea. In the centre of the table placed between the worker were large plastic buckets heaped with packets small enough to fit screws.

 

When he sat down down, at the bottom end of the table sits a silent Iron Monkey, who placed four sachets of white sugar in each bag and then pushed his contribution across the tablet to a foreign inmate who added three sachets of milk. Minseok gulped when he saw Iron Monkey’s eyes flit over to him with this growing resentment. The bag was eventually passed over to Minseok and he dropped in three tea bags, sealed it completely, and then discarded it in the large open bin next to him.

 

Every fifteen minutes or so another gaunt looking prisoner with a skull-like face, whose number Minseok had no interest in remembering, comes in and empties the bucket. The numbing exercise continued for approximately two hours, for which Minseok would be credited with three thousand won in his canteen account. He wasn’t certain if it was just him, but the tension in the workroom felt thick and foreboding. The entire time, he felt at least one pair of eyes lasered on him, but he tried to focus on his work.

 

“Wash up!” Roared the chinless works manager. Everyone dropped their items and immediately started to clean the area. After that, the officer double-checked the tables to see if anything was stolen and counted the goods. The door clanged open, a young officer entered and stepped inside, signaling with his arm for the prisoners to follow. The prisoners were escorted to the bathroom near the medical section, just like how Minseok predicted. He wondered if Kyungsoo ever arrived, or maybe he legged it, but he’s pouring all of his confidence into the cellmate. Minseok’s body felt hot in nervousness, his mouth felt dry and his stomach was unsettled, he knew something was wrong with the air right away when he stepped into the bathroom.

 

Everybody either took a leak in the urinals or rinsed off their faces, and Minseok could see from his peripheral Iron Monkey waiting near the entrance of the bathroom with impish grin. The small male knew he was trapped, but he tried to remain calm, rinsing his hands in the sink. A few prisoners seemed to have assimilated the atmosphere, eyes flitting timorously from face to face, and turned away quickly when Minseok caught anyone’s eye. They all had left one by one, and all he could do was regrettably watch from the mirror in front of him.

 

Time seemed to have flowed at an unbearable rate when the bathroom cleared, Minseok squeezed his eyes together when he heard footsteps approach him. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and nearly skipped a beat when he heard a deep laugh.

 

“Let’s see from start to finish you’ll continuing being a brazen little shit.” Iron Monkey said as he snagged the back of Minseok’s shirt with two hands, dragging him into one of the stalls. Minseok tried to grapple behind him and latch onto the larger man’s arms, but to no avail— the man only locked the stall door, and kicked his shins in response. Minseok yelled out in pain, quickly slumping to his own knees. Iron Monkey was laughing at his contortions, and roughly grabbed his elbow to lift him up easily like he was a doll. Minseok cursed, the wall barely holding him up when the inmate pulled his hair.

 

“You sick bastard, I bet you get off to this too,” Minseok spat, “Stop fucking around and just admit it. Your secret won’t be a secret for long.”

 

Iron Monkey sneered while breathing hard, he immediately lurched out and punched the smaller male directly in the ribs, “You little shit-head, I’ll put you back in your place because I have _nothing_ to confess.”

 

The force knocked him against the stall door. The small male felt like retching from the torment, amid a stream of saliva ran down his lips, he tasted iron and his mouth felt swollen into a cherry-coloured mess. He tried to everything within his power to not grab his knife.

 

Minseok spat on the ground, he raising himself unsteadily on his feet, and when he managed to find some sort of balance, he pointed a loathsome look at the taller man.

 

“I can’t get enough of that hateful expression.” Iron Monkey smiled darkly. Despite being wrenched out of shape, Minseok almost scoffed, this guy was a pervert.

 

“I heard you,” The shorter man rasped as wiped his face with his sleeve, “In the bathroom near Block A, wanking to the sight of a little girl, got anything to confess about that?”

 

“No!” growled the burly male. His voice had changed extraordinarily, and his face had suddenly become both stern and animated. “No, I did not!” He said, his face looked hideously ugly, filled with a sort of exaltation, a lunatic intensity. Minseok wasn’t sure if he was racked with guilt, or this man was just getting hysteric because Minseok had caught him.

 

He was towering over the smaller, looming in a way that was threatening, and Minseok’s heart shrank, “Confess damnit!”

 

Iron Monkey seemed to not be having it, he was absolutely shaken, “Fuck you! I’m not. I won’t and even if you told someone, no one will ever believe you, brat.”

 

“Oh shut up, I don’t care. You’re just a nutless wonder who thinks his sparkly white ass teeth would deceive everyone. But not me, money isn’t everything, asshole.” Minseok seethed. There was probably nobody nearby to save him, but he didn’t need them, he was tired, tired of needing others to lean on.

 

The elder threw his head back, laughing out loud, evil and menacing. He fisted Minseok’s collar and throttled him, “You better watch yourself buddy, you’re so low in the ranks, people will just brush you off like _you are_ nothing. You should just apologize to me while you have the chance.”

 

Minseok writhed, struggling to get released. He noticed two of his own buttons had flown off of his shirt but he was too dizzy to fret over it. Instead, he was making sure of staying on his feet, and there was a thin line of air beneath his toes. The guy was strong. Feeling bold, he swung his foot and kicked the man hard in the stomach with full force. The larger man started howling in pain with a string of curses.

 

“You bitch!” He yelled, loosening his grip on Minseok, but then he let his anger take over. He recovered, catching around the shorter man’s thin wrists instead and pinning them above his head. His calloused fingers tightened, digging into Minseok’s flesh. The shorter inmate hissed from the contact, “I know it’s you and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

 

Iron Monkey glowered at Minseok before his lips curled, “Oh, _I could convince you._ ” The taller used one hand to reach behind him, pulling out a cheap pocket knife of his own, and the younger male felt a single bead of sweat run down his temple.

 

When the weapon clicked open, Minseok tried not to appear taken aback by the power imbalance, because he knew if he took out his own knife it would be game over for him. He could feel the man’s eyes dropping down to Minseok’s bitten red lips and the shorter male felt disgusted, his soiled gaze was raking down Minseok’s body, fixated by the pale skin of his collarbones. “Your stubbornness will only keep you in trouble.” Iron Monkey said smugly.

 

Minseok felt trepidation build up inside him, because the look in the man’s eyes revealed everything he needed to know that was in his mind. Before he knew it, his throat bubbled out a scream, but Iron Monkey only laughed, telling him that it was useless, that this wing was always deserted and guards hardly blink an eye to these sort of disturbances.

 

As Minseok reached behind himself for his switchblade, he hoped to use it as a bluff, but he was jerked back by a large hand yanking violently at the outer layer of shirt. The burly man ripped it across with his blade and pulled it over Minseok’s arms and shoulders to bind his hands together, leaving him in his tank top and trousers.

 

Minseok stomach felt like it flopped. He could see a tent forming in Iron Monkey’s groin, and rather than disgusted, he was _furious_ , to be touched by pedophile was beyond his wildest imagination. His face reddened from rage, “You scroungy little fuck, you grabasstic piece of amphibian shit!”

 

Iron Monkey smirked, “I admire your honesty,” He pulled out his cock from his trousers, pumping his large erection to full hardness, and Minseok’s eyes widened. Using the same hand he touched his dick to grip Minseok’s chin, he rubbed his precum over the younger inmate’s plush bottom lip, “Fuck, that pink mouth of yours looks so pretty, would love to see it swallowing my cock whole.”  

 

“Just try sticking your dirty cock in my mouth and I’ll fucking bite it off.” Minseok remarked angrily, nearly chomping a digit off. He tried thrashing about but the tangles around wrists left him immobile. He wanted to wipe off the repulsive wetness on his lips.

 

At that comment and action, the man retracted his hand back and frowned in displeasure. He held down Minseok’s thighs and grabbed them tightly. “Stop moving damnit! If I can’t put in your mouth I’ll put it down here.” Iron Monkey uttered as he hiked up Minseok’s legs over his shoulders and rubbed Minseok’s entrance through his trousers, dragging his large hand back and forth. He gasped at the foreign sensation, hips jerking away from the convict. Minseok’s face immediately flushed into a deep rose.

 

Iron Monkey’s eyes grew large at the reaction, a very content sound came out of the elder, “Oh? You’ve never been touched down there before?”

 

“Don’t you dare put your defiled dick inside of me— you motherfucker— _I'm gonna tear your balls off so you cannot contaminate the rest of the world._ ”

 

“Shut the fuck up, you’re empty threats are getting too colorful for my liking. Don’t forget who’s the one in charge here,” the sex offender challenged, waving his weapon in the air. “So be a good boy and I’ll go easy on you.”

 

Before Minseok could reply, he flipped over Minseok’s pliant body so that his face was pressed against his tied arms, butt raised in the air. He could feel the man’s hands roaming over his body, a burning physical contact left Minseok ashamed. He’s never felt anyone touch him like this, but once he felt those hands slid down his trousers and underwear past his ass, his face was on fire.

 

He heard Iron Monkey swear behind him, squeezing the pale mounds, moaning at the softness. He was breathing harder, he pressed the pad of his finger against Minseok’s bud, and the younger whimpered, flinching away from the man, “My god, I haven't been laid in months. Look at that pink, tight hole— my cock would be squeezed so tight.”

 

Minseok’s eyes stinged, ready to spill with tears, but he wanted to be strong. He didn't want to give the man the satisfaction. He was thinking, and even though he despised his predicament, his face lit up with an idea. Every single word the man had said, Minseok paid attention to, and the pedophile was starting to slowly reveal himself. Even though it was mortifying, he prayed that Kyungsoo was there, listening.

 

His head was pounding, and embarrassment rushed into full bloom through his cheeks. With hesitation Minseok deliberately arched his back, stretching like a cat, raising his ass higher. He felt like he was signing his own death warrant, but he knew this was going to work. It had to.

 

_Oh fuck it._

 

“P-please don't put it in me, you're gonna break me, you’re too big.” Minseok plead, voice slightly higher to make him appear terrified, small, and vulnerable. He looked over his shoulder to meet Iron Monkey with wide eyes and wet fluttering lashes. Even though it was such an obvious act(a huge 360 for Minseok even) Iron Monkey didn't seem to notice, swallowing thickly and licking his dry lips at the sight.

 

He groped the soft flesh of Minseok’s hip, staring at the temptation in front of him. His chest was on the younger’s back, leaning the front of body against Minseok. Minseok could feel his body heat, his hot length pressed against his ass and he visibly squirmed.

 

Iron Monkey’s voice sounded hoarser and affected, he could feel his warm breath near the shell of his ears, “I’ll go slow, sweetheart, I’ll finger you real good. I’ve never fucked a little boy before, but let uncle fill up your hole yeah?”

 

 _Fuck no, nasty ass bitch._ He’s _twenty-seven._

 

 _“_ N-no,” Minseok said, the whine sounded so ridiculous hearing it on his own, “… I’m scared.” He choked out a whimper, his thighs unconsciously clenching together. It wasn't exactly a lie, _he was terrified goddamnit_ , but there's no way in hell he was going to let that abomination inside him.

 

There was silence behind Minseok, but then there were peppering kisses on his thighs and back, the chomo spoke with a cooing voice, and the shorter inmate rolled his eyes, he wanted to kick the fucker in the face so he could choke in his own blood, “Shhh, just apologize for being rude to me, say, ‘I’m sorry Uncle Shin, I’ve been a bad boy’ and I won’t put it in.”

 

Minseok’s eyes shut momentarily, voice shaking, “I-I’m sorry Uncle Shin, I-I’ve been a bad boy.” He _hated_ how weak and desperate he sounds, but the pervert was infatuated. If he ever makes it out of here safely, he’s going to shove bar soap in his mouth. Iron Monkey used both of his hands to yank Minseok closer to his hips, and the younger was stunned; the larger inmate dropped his weapon carelessly. But there was thick hardness that slipped between his thighs and Minseok let out a squeak. _What the fuck_.

 

“We’re gonna have pretend sex, my darling.” Iron Monkey pants, voice sickly sweet, “Put your legs together and let your thighs hug my cock.”

 

Minseok stayed silent, unmoving, he didn’t exactly want to do this either. “Do it or I’ll change my mind.” At that sentence, Minseok hung his head down with grief, less than reluctantly clamping his thighs tightly against the length. His fingers dug crescents into his palms, he felt even more humiliated, he could feel the convict moving slowly behind him, his muscle rubbing against his hole and taint.

 

He bit onto the fabric to muffle his whimpers, he couldn’t wrap his mind around the sensation below him. Iron Monkey groaned, he pulled back out and spat on his member, lubricating it before sticking back between his thighs.

 

“Fuck you feel so good, this is better than fantasizing it in bed, I never noticed this, but you’re actually beautiful, soft and pretty just like a young girl.” He grunted, moving quicker as he gripped onto Minseok’s hips tighter, rocking his body frenziedly.

 

Minseok cried out in protest, a high-pitched noise left his lips, but he tried to keep himself sober. “W-What kind of girls do you like, Uncle Shim?” Minseok choked out, he did his best to sound soft and innocently curious.

 

There was slick between his thighs and he grimaced, Iron Monkey’s hips were stuttering, “I’ve tasted all kinds of girls, young, skinny, short, fat, _very young,_ tan— the list goes on,” He groaned, “I’ve touched my nieces, I couldn’t help it— I had this paranoia always chasing me, scared I would get caught. So I’d make them disappear, tried to make em’ disappear so I wouldn’t.”

 

Minseok eyebrows furrowed, wanting the man to hurry up and say it so this would end, “... How old were they?”

 

“I don’t know, like seven or thirteen, it didn’t matter as long as they weren’t strong and large enough to fight back,” Iron Monkey moaned. Minseok wanted to vomit. He was done with this guy.

 

“You’re slimy little shit, you know that?” The shorter man claimed, abruptly turning around to kick the guy in the groin with as much force as he could. “Go fuck a blender instead of little kids! Didn't Mommy and Daddy show you enough attention when you were a child?

 

“What the hell!” Iron Monkey shouted, writhing in pain as he clutched his dick, he seemed to have the air knocked out of him, wheezing in agony when he fell to his knees. Minseok glanced down at the knife and immediately kicked a ways under the stall, he cursed at his bound hands, but it was fine as long as the weapon was far away, he just wished he kicked the guy harder. The pedophile was enraged, looking back at Minseok with hate in his eyes, spit flew from his lips, “You bitch, I’m gonna kill you!”

 

“Just like those children you put in the trunk?!”

 

“Damn right! I’ll give you a bigger beating and a worse death than you could imagine, you shitty whore,” The inmate fumed with a gasp, barely capable of standing back up. Minseok sneered, trying to get back up himself, his legs trembled from numbness, but he still managed. When he was back on his feet, he kneed the man in the stomach twice and fell back down on his ass again. Minseok yelped at the throbbing on his bottom, the convict choked out, yelling in fury.

 

“What the hell going on in here?!” Bellowed a deep, loud voice of authority. There was a boisterous pounding on the stall door and the two inmates were still from shock and their injuries, “What in the name of Jesus H. Christ are you animals doing in this lavatory? If you guys are gonna be sodomizing _in my bathroom_ , do it somewhere else!”

 

Minseok finally mustered his voice and called for help, and the officer forcibly pushed the door open with his foot. Their eyes met, and it was a young, sturdy guard dressed in black, he soaked in the scene. Iron Monkey was still howling, and Minseok was staring bewilderedly at the man; a kick from the guard’s boot had a different cry, breaking one of Iron Monkey’s fingers, “Stop your damn crying, you’re not the one getting it in the ass and yet you’re weeping like a baby!”

 

The officer looked down at Minseok sprawled on the tile, eyes scrutinizing the situation. Blood on Minseok’s busted lip, flushed face, pants pulled down, but very calm. His eyes fell to see Minseok’s bound arms. He sighed and pulled out a knife from a strap on the side of his trousers, he then kneeled down to cut through the shirt. After that he grabbed Minseok’s arm to help him stand. Minseok winced, his body was sore, his legs were like jelly.

 

“Get up. Put your pants back on and head back to your block. Chows in twenty-three minutes,” He squinted and glimpsed down at Minseok’s ID number to memorize it.

 

“Y-Yes, sir.” Minseok obeyed, fingers fumbling to bring his pants back to his waist as he left the stall. “Thank you, uh sir.” The short inmate said, watching the CO turn around to haul up the groaning convict by the clothes, yelling at the man and shaking him.

 

“What’s gonna happen to that guy?” Minseok mustered the courage to ask.

 

“What?” Blared the guard, still nearly strangulating the pedo. “Oh, him? This is sexual assault, we will have to file new criminal charges, but for now we’ll be separating the two of you from work, units, and activities.”

 

“Alright…” Minseok said, shocked by the outcome, he blinked, still lingering, “Was there a short guy outside there?”

 

“Stand the fuck up damn it!” The CO shouted at the whimpering elder convict, evidently fed up, “No? I don’t know honestly. Some inmate loaded with tattoos just told me he heard a commotion over here and told me to check it out. Didn't get his ID.”

 

Minseok boggled by the reply, but shrugged it off. He’ll inquire Kyungsoo about the incident when he sees him, but in the inside, he was hopeful that he heard everything, his heart refused to calm down.

 

“Hey kid, what the hell did you do to this guy? His dick looks mangled.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 

**A/N: So sorry for the late update! This chapter was a long monster, I was planning to make it at least 9k, but my sister said to make it longer. I tried proof-reading this on my own, so there’s probably a lot of mistakes OTL. I did my best to edit them. I referenced a part from a movie 12 Angry Men, it's a good movie!**

**To prevent any confusion, I'll be making notes for some prison slang, I apologize if nothing makes sense to you orz. There is going to be a lot of crazy shit in this fic, I did some research and read an autobiography. I repeat, prison is wild, therefore I recommend not reading this fic if it will make you uncomfortable.Thank you for sticking around despite this mess^^; Also! Thank you so much for reading and commenting!!**

Summary towards the end: Minseok encounters Iron Monkey. Iron Monkey was being creepy as fuck and threatened Minseok. He touched Minseok and tied him up. Minseok obviously hated it, but he needed evidence for Kyungsoo to hear. Minseok tempted Iron Monkey and managed to get him to confess. Guard comes in to save the day, guard says guy in tattoo told him to check out the bathroom(oh shit who dat).

 

 **ID numbers:** Prisoner numbers are according to EXO’s official jersey numbers.

 **Association time:** The times that prisoners are locked in their cells or unlocked, the times of roll-checks and the schedules for work, education and association (recreation area). It also sets down the specific times for family visits, exercise, gym access, library visits and so on.

 **Contraband:** imported or exported illegally, either in defiance of a total ban or without payment of duty.

 **Segregation:** Segregation is the housing of inmates in special units separate from the general population.

 **CO:** Correctional officer; prison officer

 **Chomo:** pedophile; child molester; nonce; nonsense merchant

 **Chow Hall:** Cafeteria

 **Neutron:** A prisoner not affiliated with a gang.

 


End file.
